


libraries aren't that shit, after all

by tomlilsun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Smut, So yeah, and smut in later chapters, i think, idk this may be triggering, im so bad at tagging this help, sometimes????
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 63,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlilsun/pseuds/tomlilsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a uni student and has a nice life with good friends and a girlfriend. But then he happens to meet a curly-haired stranger at a library, and after they get to know each other he realizes he kind of likes this stranger called Harry, not just as a friend; which makes his question the things he had buried deep into his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the first fic ive ever updated and i dont know how to do this shit on ao3, im still learning how to use this damn site like cmon im just a girl who eats chocolate and cries over larry idk how to tag shit bUT i hope you enjoy the fic anyway and god i know nothing about the school and uni system in uk ive tried to study it a bit but im sorry if something is wrong pls correct me then i just love louis and harry peace out
> 
> (also the first chapter is very fucking short but forgive me lets blame it on the very first chapter shall we, its more of an prologue anyway than an actual chapter)

"Hey, did you guys hear about that party Stan's throwing?"

Louis rolled his eyes at Niall whose excitement had gotten to a point where the blond lad was practically hopping beside Louis. Of course Louis had heard about it - after all, Stan was one of his closest friends, and Louis usually knew everything that was happening. And in addition to that, Niall was usually the last one to find about stuff since he never concentrated on anything due to his ADHD (well, not diagnosed one, but Louis was sure Niall had the disorder. Like, ninety nine point nine per cent sure.) But then, Niall wasn't always the sharpest pencil of the pencil case (that was something Louis also blamed on the undiagnosed ADHD), and the Irish fella was Louis' baby, so Louis let that go. "Yeah. But isn't it in like, a month or something?"

The blonde boy waved his hand like it was no big deal. "Maybe, but it's _Stan_. He always has killer parties. I mean, their house and all - remember the last time? I think I've never been in such a sick party-"

"Of course we remember," Zayn, who had been walking quietly beside Niall, sighed. "How could I ever forget how you prick threw up into my car after almost drowning into Stan's pool?"

"You wouldn't have to remember _that_ well..." Niall mumbled.

"And I'm pretty sure you also texted your every ex and convinced them that you miss them-"

Niall tried to punch Zayn's side with his elbow, but the raven-haired boy managed to avoid it with a laugh. Louis laughed as well, and Niall might have tried not to smile, but he failed and gave a little laugh as well. It was endearing how Niall found everything funny - Louis was pretty sure he had never seen Niall actually getting mad. It just didn't suit to Niall's delightful personal traits.

The three of them were walking home, which reminded Louis - he wasn't going home just yet. His mind let out a poem of curses because he would've paid anything to have a relaxing evening at home, but thanks to the great invention that was called education, the relaxing evening was just a dream. So when they reached the crossroads of their home street, a beautiful road in the middle of London, Louis stopped, because he was about to take the other way than the two boys that were walking beside him.

"Hey guys, see you tomorrow, I'll have some business to do elsewhere," he blurted, taking a few steps towards the crosswalk that the other boys were about to pass.

"And where do you think you're going?" Zayn asked, quirking his brows.

"Library," Louis said, rolling his eyes and readjusting his bag that hung on his shoulder. It was quite heavy - the training back he had had with him that day included his books and football equipment. Football was Louis' life, something Louis was proud of - he had become the captain of the football team after years of working his ass off. Not literally, though - another thing he was very proud of was, in fact, his very round and firm ass. His ass was probably one of his most known traits, along with his loud and bubbly personality that had given him the spot as one of the most known lads at the university. He wasn't being cocky - it was the truth. Everyone knew him by his name, and sometimes it was purely annoying since everyone always knew everything he was doing, whether he liked it or not. Louis didn't crave for the attention, though, it was just something that came naturally to a talkative person like him. He didn't like to consider himself as a popular person, but sometimes he felt like it was just a part of the job description of being Louis Tomlinson.

"Library, Tommo? Seriously?" Zayn asked in disbelief. "You know, that's the place with books, those things you don't like that much-"

"Literature project," Louis growled, interrupting Zayn. "You know, I missed many classes, and Mr Collins didn't quite like it - he made me do an extra project. As if I didn't have enough work with the other projects and practices as well..."

Niall tapped Louis' shoulder, giving him a empathic look. Louis silently blesses him in his mind - the world needed more people like Niall. AHDH or not. "Sure thing, mate. See ya later then."

The two boys continued forward, but Louis turned left. He cursed the project in his mind - he seriously did have better things to do than a stupid analysis of some stupid book for a stupid teacher in a stupid library surrounded by stupid nerdy library people. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

His thoughts for the literature project were nearly as cold as the wind that was blowing against him as he walked. The wind caught his brown locks and messed with them as he took a few running steps towards the library that he was already able to see in the distance; it was fortunate for him that the building happened to be located near his home street. The library was a huge building made of reddish stones, and Louis thought it was sort of beautiful; to be a building, at least. Architecture was a guilty pleasure of his, and there had been times he had thought he'd become an architect; unfortunately, his mathematic skills didn't seem to agree with his secret wish.

A couple of minutes, and Louis was running up the steps to the big, red building. The room he stepped into was enormous and so quiet he could have heard a pin drop; it felt like the door that had closed behind him was a gate to a whole new world that was isolated from all the noise of the city. The white marble floor was filled with tall bookshelves that were old and made of wood; probably holding thousands and thousands of books. The last time Louis has visited the place had been ages ago, yet the scent was something he memorized from the past. It was safe to say that he wasn't a big fan of books or reading - he preferred such things as sports and socializing, which didn't really leave time for something as unnecessary - in Louis' opinion - as reading.

His Vans' didn't make a sound as he walked his way to a dark-haired girl with a name tag on her shirt. Obviously, Louis was quite out of place, which was why he asked quietly and politely where were the books about his subject, and the girl showed him the way. Louis noticed the way the girl gave him several glances and seemed to be pretty tingly, smiling just a little too much at everything he said - it reminded he of a few girls in the university, girls who wanted to have his attention due to the fact he had pretty good contacts to people such as the football team; and maybe, he sometimes thought, they simply just wanted to have his attention because it was _him_ , the chatty and funny lad with a little collection of good jokes. Some people would've probably enjoyed the bit of attention, but Louis just found it pretty annoying. He couldn't help but wonder if the girl was from his university, but as much as he tried, he couldn't recall the face. Therefore, he just smiled politely but avoided a long-lasting eye contact, hoping that the girl wouldn't mind if she actually did go to his uni. The girl was being flirty, but he wasn't interested, and even if he had been, he had Eleanor. His brown-haired, pretty and smart significant other, who was the daydream of many guys, and whom he was lucky to call his girlfriend.

"Thank you, that's all I needed to know," Louis said and gave the girl a smile when they finally reached the shelf he had been looking for. The girl - Tracey, he read from the name tag - stood still for a second, looking at him unsurely, but Louis decided to ignore her. That was all. It didn't took that long until she gave up and left Louis alone, which was something he had been waiting for.

It took a while for him to find the books he was looking for. Louis wasn't used to searching books from library, and since the topic didn't even interest him that much he barely concentrated on what he was doing. His plan was plain and simple - get the books, read enough to know the main points of the topic, and do a project that's good enough for the teacher so Louis could pass the course. It wasn't really an ambitious goal, but then again, his ambitions didn't lay on a good grade as much as they did on a well-played football game. Louis wasn't one to read, he rather paid attention to teaching than studied to exams by reading, and the books he was slowly picking up seemed uninteresting enough for him to let out a frustrated sigh.

He was about to leave, but then he hesitated. He only had three books in his hands, and Louis felt like it didn't reach the standard amount of a proper project work material; let alone the fact he felt like the books in his hands didn't even cover all the matters of his project. Therefore, he decided it was better to check the last shelf as well.

His eyes scanned through the books on the shelf, finding two more books. He decided that five books were more than enough for him, but before he managed to turn back, something caught his attention. Louis took a couple of steps further to peek to the space after the shelves. What he saw first were a couple of armchairs, but then his gaze stopped at something that made him inhale just slightly deeper than usually. And by something he meant someone. And by someone he meant a boy.

The brown curls fell down the boy's forehead and other cheek. His eyes that were reading a book were hidden behind long lashes, moving back and forth under the eyelids as he read. He was biting his perfectly pink lower lip, gently chewing it with his teeth, probably too concentrated to even realize it. His lips were so incredibly plumb (probably from the chewing, unless he just happened to have the most plumb lips of the history of plumb lips) that Louis had to have a double take on them. The boy was curled up into a comfortable position, his long legs crooked and feet lying on another chair, and it probably should've looked weird to be so comfortable at a damn _library_ , but it didn't. It was like the boy just belonged there.

Louis didn't know why he was so stunned by the view, but he just couldn't tear his eyes off the boy. A small voice in the back of his head told him that he should just stop being a creep and return to his activities - but it was like his eyes were magnets and the boy was the force attracting them. The boy massaged quickly his cheek with the back of his large hand, still completely lost in the book, and it wasn't supposed to be endearing, and Louis was quick to convince himself that _it wasn't_. His eyes followed the long fingers, a few of which were covered by rings, as the boy placed his hand back on the book, turning a page. Louis, being the tattoo enthusiast that he was, couldn't help but notice a little cross tattoo near the boy's thumb; it made him wonder whether there were more tattoos hidden from his sight.

That was when the boy lost his focus for a second, and green eyes met blue ones.

Louis felt how his neck and his whole face blushed furiously, and he turned his gaze away as quickly as he could. He closed his eyes for a tiny moment, but the green was stuck in the insides of his eyelids, and he opened his eyes again less than a second later. He couldn't explain it, but suddenly his hands felt sweaty and he noticed that his heart was racing like he was committing football training. _What the fuck_. Louis pretended to keep searching a book that didn't even exist, but he side-eyed the boy, trying to survive from the waves of embarrassment that were flashing through his body. After a second or two the burn of the boy's gaze disappeared, and Louis dared to glance at him carefully. The boy was grinning slightly, staring at the book again but shaking his head in amusement. The grin brought out dimples on the boy's cheeks, and that shouldn't have affected Louis at all. _It didn't_.

It was nothing about the boy, for sure, but suddenly Louis felt the urge to leave. He _needed_ to leave.

He rushed through the shelves, leaving the books to the nearest table. He could start the project tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment and if it sucks then tell me why it sucks thank u!!
> 
> OH AND ALSO, please note that english isnt my first language so i cant guarantee there wont be mistakes!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Louis was happy about the fact the conversation didn't feel awkward. It was actually a miracle, considering that the conversation had basically started by Harry accusing him for stalking."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now lets get this party started really, the first chapter was a short piece of shit but this is when the fun begins but also this is kinda when the angst begins too bc u see the first parts of that bc yea this wont exactly be a completely fluffy fic so you have been warned

Louis felt like his lungs would explode, like his legs would give in any second.

It was the last fifteen minutes of the workout, but Louis felt like they had been spurting for hours. Endurance workouts were basically the definition of hell. An actual hell on earth. Or maybe, Louis thought, hell could have actually been a nicer place compared to their endurance workouts. Louis’ thoughts raced on the topic for a few seconds before he decided that he would probably end up in hell anyway, so he could make the comparison between hell and the workouts after death – now he needed to focus on controlling the sharp pain in his lungs.

The burning pain was something he had started to enjoy, though. It had taken years and years of hard training before he had started to appreciate the pain it gave him. Sometimes he wondered what kind of a masochist he had to be to feel the pleasure in the pain, but he tended to ignore those thoughts with a shrug of a shoulder. He had his reasons to enjoy the pain. Louis closed his eyes and wiped sweat away from his face - sweat that was a proof of the hard work, he preferred to think.

"Again," the coach yelled. Louis opened his eyes and, as he was the captain, he was first to get set on the line. Others followed him, and soon the coach whistled as a mark to start running. And Louis did. He tried to close away the pain from his lungs as he spurted to the second line, back to the first, turned again and ran to the third one, again to the first, then to the fourth. And he was the first to cross the fourth line, others coming shortly after him. If he hadn't felt like he could have fainted any second, he would probably have appreciated being the fastest.

"I guess that was it," the coach said, walking to the middle of the group of panting lads. Some of them sat down - or maybe their legs just failed. Louis found humour in that, regardless of the fact he knew he was just as exhausted as the others. But instead of letting his legs give in he just leaned his hands on his thighs and tried to control his gasps. In all honesty, he probably couldn’t have gotten up if he had let himself fall.

He felt a hand on his back, followed by the coach's deep voice. "Good job, Tomlinson."

Louis just nodded, still unable to speak.

He had been serious about sports since he was thirteen. For him it was a way to escape, to get his mind off of the world. If something was wrong or bothered him, he just went for a run or a gym. He did it for so long until his muscles were burning and mind was dizzy and he didn't stop even then.

But now he felt like it didn't work.

He still heard the voices in his head; he still felt the heavy stone on his heart. Louis almost wished that the coach would have told them to run some more, to do abs or push-ups or ANYTHING - anything that would have made Louis' body and mind numb. He just wanted to get rid of it.

"You okay?" he heard a low voice next to him. Louis had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed Liam approaching him. Liam was one of his best friends and also his roommate, and he was always the one to notice if something was wrong or different. In school Liam was the lad that all the teachers loved, the good guy in a group of loud and mischievous lads. Sometimes Louis felt a little guilty because he felt like he was spoiling the kid with his company, but then, maybe Liam just needed someone to make himself loosen up a bit.

"Yeah, I'm... yeah. Why?" Louis mumbled, knowing immediately that Liam hadn't bought it. Usually he was a pretty good liar (a brilliant one, actually – he was sure no one ever saw through his lies when he needed people to buy them), but now he was too distracted. Plus, Liam usually knew when Louis was lying, that had to be handed to him. Brilliant liar or not, Louis felt like sometimes he was like an open book for Liam.

"Even if I pretended that that would've been convincing, I still know that mood, Lou. You were training like your life would depend on it. What's wrong?"

Louis sighed. "No, really Liam, I'm fine. Just stressing about stuff." And there, way more convincing. The brilliant liar was back in the game.

Liam examined him with his eyes for a moment and nodded after a while. But when he passed Louis, he hesitated, landed his hand on Louis' shoulder and murmured lowly: "You know you can always talk to me, Lou."

Louis swallowed but as he nodded as a response, Liam was already jogging away towards their other teammates that were already running slowly and lazily around the field. Louis decided that he could convince Liam later, when they got to their flat.

Their flat was something that Louis considered as an amazing and incredibly lucky coincidence. It wasn’t nothing that fancy, a tiny flat with two tiny bedrooms and one even tinier bathroom, but considering it was near their uni and nearly in the middle of London, getting it had been like winning a lottery. They had a combined kitchen-living room and decent place to sleep and wash themselves, and Louis couldn’t have asked for more. The best side of the flat was its prize that was just affordable for the two students.

Louis basically ignored his teammates at the end of the workout - he didn't bother join the group but ran alone at the sideline of the field, he was first to leave to the dressing room and first one to leave it when the other lads were still showering and changing. Usually he was extremely social and talkative, being the loudest person the most of the time and always in the middle of conversation, but that day he didn't feel like it. He didn't feel like chatting or concentrating on other people - he was too lost in his head.

"Seeya. Liam, I'll come home later. I go to the library", he quickly called out before he shut the door behind him.

Library.

Louis didn't hurry that much while he walked towards the red building. He had the whole evening to spend just with himself, just him, some books, paper and his thoughts. The last one he found very unnecessary though - he would've gladly shut his thoughts off. But at least there were no lads trying to catch his attention while he certainly didn't need it.

Louis hopped up the steps, opened the door - and there he was again. For some reason he found out that his hands were sweaty and his heart was racing way too fast considering he had only gotten up the stairs, but he just ignored it and let his Converses lead him to the familiar bookshelf. He focused on the books and tried to push back the voice in his head - the voice that told him to peek behind the shelf.

No, just one book, and then I'll find a table as far away as I can, Louis thought, added one more book to his pile, and turned around. But his subconscious told him that he needed to know. He needed to know if the curly-haired boy was there again. And before his mind, his sanity, had enough time to stop him, his feet followed his instincts and in a couple of seconds he had turned around again and taken a couple of steps to see behind the shelf.

The green eyes followed the lines, from left to right and over again. Straight brows were frowned; the pink bottom lip was between the boy's teeth again. The mop of curls was tugged into a green-ish beanie (maybe it had been bright green once, but it seemed like the years had made it lose its colour), except for some reckless strands on the sides of his head. Louis caught himself smiling - the boy somehow made him feel calm, serene even. He let himself stare at the boy for several minutes, letting his mind slip into a state of comfort, forgetting everything else around him.

Just like that the voices in Louis' head were gone.

Later, when he had found a table in a peaceful corner, he could concentrate properly on the books and the project, with no distracting thoughts in his head.

 

***

 

That's how Louis spent the next week.

After the day at the university he either went to the practices first, or then he just walked straight to the library. If someone questioned his sudden interest in spending time in the middle of books, he simply explained it by doing the literature project. Well, it was mostly true, or part of the truth anyway - he did waste hours with the books as he actually started to find them almost interesting. It was new for him, feeling comfortable while reading. He had even started reading one novel that was about a boy who accidentally got in the middle of a drug gang.

But every time Louis went to a library, the first thing he checked was if the curly-haired boy was reading there again. And he always was. Within the seven days’ time Louis had learned some things about him (not that he had studied it, definitely not, he had just accidentally noted some things). He was very stylish, in relaxed kind of way. Skinny jeans, different kind of casual t-shirts, sometimes cardigans, and he always had white, low Converses. Somehow the boy's style was very similar to Louis', but then again it was everything but the same. The boy had also some tattoos – well, actually many of them. Louis had seen a couple of them properly: an old ship on his forearm, two birds on his chest and text on his wrist. He also had several smaller tattoos on his bicep. Louis doubted that was all - he guessed there were some other ones as well. Not that Louis was interested in them. Not at all.

Sometimes the boy had his beanie covering his curls, sometimes his hair was up on a quiff, but most of the time the curls fell freely on his forehead and neck. Louis could perfectly recall one day when the setting sun had shone from a window that was almost behind the boy, and the warm light had made the scene look like a photoshoot, making colours disappear into the shades of sepia and bringing out golden shades on boy's hair. Louis had wanted to take a picture of the view, save the memory in that way, but he had realized that the sight would never leave his mind. The picture of the boy in the sunset was there for good. (As much as he tried to convince himself that it was purely about the perfect view and the sunset. Not about the curly haired boy.)

So when Louis was doing his daily routine, taking a couple of books and peeking behind the shelf casually, already prepared to see the similar face and book-holding long fingers, it somehow hit him to see an empty seat.

Without thinking Louis stepped from behind the shelf, glancing around. The fact that the boy was gone didn't feel right – it was like Louis’ brain was in denial, although he would’ve never admitted it. But as he walked closer to the empty bench, he started to realize how ridiculous it was to search for the boy and to be shocked even to not find him there. Louis didn't even know the lad. And he surely shouldn't have been so affected by the fact-

"So you actually are stalking me?"

Louis' heart stopped.

He turned around so quickly he was about to lose his balance, feeling the furious blush all over his face and neck, to find the source of the deep, raspy but at the same time remarkably soft voice. Green eyes had a mischievous yet gentle glimpse in them and the pink lips were grinning as the boy stepped into Louis' sight from behind another shelf.

Louis was speechless – he opened his mouth, but the words didn't seem to come out. What could he say, anyway? As he now realized, he _had_ been stalking the boy, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Goddamn it, he didn’t even know why he had started to keep observing the boy.

"Uhmm, no, I- uhmm." Louis was mentally kicking his own head; he was Louis Tomlinson for God's sake, he didn't get speechless. He blamed it on that stupid boy. That very stupid and _definitely-not-a-very-cute-lad-that-definitely-had-not-any-kind-of-effect-on-Louis_.

The boy's grin deepened. "Oh, good. Would've been really awkward if I claimed that you’ve been stalking me and you were like 'what the fuck are you talking about'..."

Louis was still stunned by the boy's voice. If he had expected something, it surely wasn't anything like that. The voice was so low and raspy - at first it had seemed like it didn't fit, but now Louis could've never imagined the boy's voice to be anything else.

"Yeah, well, I just-" Louis tried to pull himself together, finally managing to bring out a grin as well, quickly finding the ship tattoo in the boy's forearm with his eyes, "Saw your tattoos. Yeah. I thought this", he rolled up his sleave, "is such a coincidence."

By rolling up the sleeve of his grey sweater he had revealed his tattooed arm, the biggest tattoo being a compass. That was something he had noticed before, as much as he had tried to ignore it; their tattoos matched. And fuck, Louis thought, if that wasn’t weird then what was?

"A compass?"

The boy's smile dropped for a second. He stared at the tattoo with widened eyes, and Louis was about to get nervous, but then the boy quickly seemed to get back to reality, shaking his head like to clear his mind and the grin was back on. "Nice tat", he said, glancing at his owns. Then the boy registered the other tattoos in Louis' arm as well. "And the other ones too! Hooked on tattoos, eh?"

Louis just shrugged with apologetic grin. "It seems like I'm not alone."

The boy's grin turned into a smile. "So. Pip has tattoos as well."

"Pip?" Louis quirked his brows. Had he heard right?

"Yeah," the boy grinned. "Of course I had to give a name to my stalker, and you seemed like Pip."

Louis laughed. "You gave me a name? Why Pip?"

Louis was surprised - apparently it was the boy's turn to flush. "It... it just fit, I dunno."

Louis squinted slightly. Why such a reaction? He could’ve sworn that the boy was nearly embarrassed. But he didn't have long time to think about it as the boy stepped closer and offered his hand.

"I'm Harry, Harry Styles."

Harry. Louis liked the name. It was perfect for the boy with green eyes. Absolutely perfect. Louis grabbed the hand and shook it.

“Yeah, you look like a Harry.”

Harry gave Louis a confused smile. “Thanks, I think?”

Louis smiled at him and nodded. "Yeah. So, you wanna call me Pip or-"

Harry laughed, which showed the dimples on his cheeks. It made Louis smile widely, purely for the admiration for the boy's gestures.

"As much as I like that name, I'd prefer to hear your real one."

Louis grinned. "Louis Tomlinson."

"Louis," Harry repeated slowly, like considering the name. "Yeah, we can go with that. It fits even better."

They still hadn’t let go of one another’s hands. Louis wasn't sure if it was Harry - or if it was he himself - who lingered the touch of their hands for a little too long, but it still felt like it was gone too soon as Louis pulled his hand back. He resisted the chills that went down on his spine - why _the fuck_ was his hand so tingly? He took a slightly deeper breath than usually, trying to keep himself calm and cool. Needless to say, he didn’t quite success.

"So, Louis. You liked my tattoos, huh?"

Louis hesitated for a second, but then he shrugged and smiled. "As you said, hooked on tattoos. I'm an addict, I'm already planning the next one and I've had the previous one just for, like, two weeks..."

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "Same for me... I don't know how long I will have empty skin left."

Louis was happy about the fact the conversation didn't feel awkward. It was actually a miracle, considering that the conversation had basically started by Harry accusing him for stalking. They chatted about tattoos for a moment, and Louis noticed that Harry kept glancing at his compass tattoo repeatedly. Louis did his best to ignore it, thinking that Harry was probably just surprised by the coincidence that their tattoos matched, but it was a little difficult because he recalled Harry's weird reaction to showing the tattoo at first.

"But hey," Harry said after a while, when they were already sitting on the benches and talking about random things (“I just went to movies yesterday-“ “Oh, really? I did, too, I went to see this romantic comedy-“ “A romantic comedy? Really, Harry?”) and the time had lost its meaning, "why didn't you like, come to talk to me? Am I scary or what?"

Louis opened his mouth, but he realized he didn't know what to answer. He didn't even know why he had "stalked" the boy in the first place; though he surely knew it wasn't just because of the tattoos.

"I don't know... I'm not that good at making friends."

The second the words came out of Louis' mouth he knew they weren't true. In fact, it was everything but true - if someone was good at making friends, it was Louis. He knew endless amount of people and there were even more people that he didn't know but who knew him. It was just the way it was – he was kind of popular, as much as he hated the word. It reminded him of the douches in high school movies.

"Oh," was all Harry gave back.

"What?" Louis asked too quickly - even he himself heard that his tone was nervous.

"You don't seem like it... you don't seem like you're shy, or, you know. Not-outgoing. You seem to be, like, the opposite."

Now it was Louis' turn to come back with a simple "oh". Hell, he _wasn't_ shy – Harry had figured it out in that short time they had been talking. And yes, Louis knew Harry really had figured it out. It was in the green eyes. Harry hadn’t just _guessed_ that Louis wasn’t shy, he _knew_ that Louis wasn't shy. Well, Louis thought, maybe it wasn't something that hard to figure out.

Harry examined Louis with his green eyes, and somehow the gaze made Louis feel uncomfortable, like his soul would have been under Harry's eyes, there for him to examine without any protection. It lasted only for a couple of seconds, though, until Harry smirked and shrugged, turning his gaze away, but it felt like years for Louis.

Who the fuck was this boy?

"I guess I was wrong then," Harry said and glanced at Louis quickly, the same smile still on his face. The smile that said I’m definitely not wrong though, I know it and you know I know it. Suddenly Louis felt a burning need to be more honest with the boy, he didn’t want to lie, at least not that much – especially when he felt like Harry knew he was lying anyway.

"Well, I'm not actually shy... more like, bad at getting to know complete strangers when I'm alone."

That was almost true, anyway.

"Well, that seems more like it," Harry said, grinning. Louis couldn't help but smile a little.

"And who are you, some kind of a mind-reader?"

"Maybe," Harry laughed, settling a dorky grin onto his face. And no, Louis didn't find that absolutely adorable. “Who knows. Maybe I’m an actual psychic ninja.”

In any other case, Louis would have called out the worst joke of the century, but now he couldn’t do anything else but let out a little hum. For some reason the horrible sense of humour was something that made Harry so interesting and – Louis had to force himself to not think of the words “absolutely adorable” – so, so unique.

Harry’s gaze had found its way back to the book he had been holding for the whole time. Louis wondered whether Harry had been actually waiting for him or just happened to get up right before Louis had arrived to the library. For some reason, he guessed the first option was the real one. The silence (a very comfortable one) had settled in between them, which was an awfully great chance for Louis to trace Harry’s gestures with his eyes, so he literally had to tear his eyes off from Harry's face.

"So, you read a lot?" Louis asked casually, trying to concentrate on the book instead of Harry.

"Mmh", Harry mumbled, his mind still in the book. Then he shook his head like to clear his thoughts and looked at Louis. "Yeah, I love reading. And books."

"You love books?"

Harry nodded and gave a soft glance at the book in his hand.

"That's kind of silly, really. Loving books," Louis teased.

"Hey, it isn't silly! At least reading increases your intelligence," Harry grinned. "That's something you can't say about, I dunno, for example sports. And don't get me wrong, Iike sports, but you know. _That's_ kind of silly, really."

"Sport is silly? What's wrong with you?" Louis exclaimed, grinning as well.

"I'm just being reasonable!" Harry laughed. "But you're into sports?"

Louis melted into a warm smile. "Yeah, football. It's kinda my thing..."

They slipped into an effortless conversation about sports and other interests, and before neither of them noticed it, the sun had set and the library started to get closed and they had to leave. When they headed into different directions, Louis almost - just almost, he tried to convince himself - wished that Harry had asked his number or something so they could have been in touch later as well. And just then he heard a shout behind him.

"And Louis? You know where to find me, if you feel like talking about tattoos again."

Louis turned around to find out that Harry had turned around as well, and even with the long distance between them Louis was able to recognize Harry's cheeky grin.

"I'll keep that in mind", Louis shouted back, convincing himself that he had to go to the library anyway because of the homework. Just because of the homework.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ur comments would be highly appreciated rly, pls its great to know what u think about everything and if something isnt fitting or just absolutely sucks pls let me know so i can correct it and improve stuff and hey feel free to leave kudos too iF u like okay? okay thanks
> 
> oh and let me know whether you like chapters this long or longer okay i think this is quite a good length but what do ya think pLS comment i need to know whether people like this or not bc if not i need to change something but if u do like it then im just gonna keep going help a girl out pls


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Louis closed his eyes, his lips pressed into a tight line. Fuck. Suddenly a stupid work of literature felt like such a tiny problem. For the first time during the two years they had been dating, Louis felt like he was about to ruin the relationship bwtween him and Eleanor. Yet even though everything had gone well there had always been a little suspicion in Louis' mind. He had always managed to convince himself that he could do it. He had made the voices in his head shut up, buried them deep into his subconscious, but now they were stronger than ever.
> 
> The worst part of it was that he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to stop himself from ruining it all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go again apparently louis is a little moody in this chapter but hey who isnt moody when you have a harry styles waiting for you at a library like srsly think about it i would start living in that fucking library but that wouldnt probably be cool bc theres no food or beds and you should be quiet there and im currently very tired im sorry

Louis felt a piercing elbow in his side.

"C'mon, Louis, try to even pretend that you're listening," Liam whispered. Louis forced his eyes open with a low groan. He found out it was almost an impossible task to keep his eyes open for more than three seconds – as much as he tried to make himself believe that _he wasn't even that tired_ , he knew it wasn't true. He hadn't really slept, and not only did he feel it, but according to the mirror it was also visible in the way he looked. His puffy and red-ish eyes and the dark bags under them spoke aloud. Not to mention his stubble that had gotten out of control because he had been too tired to shave - he almost had a beard. Louis wiped his chin absentmindedly, feeling the prickly facial hair, and took the previous statement back - he _definitely_ had a beard.

"'M tired," Louis mumbled and suppressed a yawn.

"I can see that," Liam murmured back, shaking his head. "You know, sleeping is a thing. Which is something you clearly haven't been doing."

Louis snorted. "I was doing school stuff. The irony, though – I can't focus on school because of school itself."

"School stuff? I thought you spent the whole yesterday in a library doing that 'school stuff'?"

Louis tensed. Yes, he _had_ spent the whole day in the library. That much was true. But had he been doing "school stuff"? If talking and laughing and reading with a curly haired hipster guy was considered as _doing school stuff_ , then yes. In other cases, he would've lied if he had said he had gotten anything done. Louis hadn’t even taken his books and papers out of his bag.

"I had a lot of stuff to do, okay?" Louis barked quietly. It was true, anyway. He had shitloads of stuff to do, whether he had done anything or not. Liam glared at him in amusement, but didn't say anything. Louis just huffed and ignored the guy, but the glare felt extremely uncomfortable. He felt the slight burn of guilt in the bottom of his stomach, which made his mind race to come up with excuses. Louis had basically been educating himself by talking about books. With green-eyed, endearingly dorky guy. No reasons to feel guilty. If he looked at the case from the right angle, he had actually been productive. In a way.

Louis had decided that Harry was a great lad. He had an awesome sense of humour (although very dumb kind of one, judging by the amount of knock-knock jokes Harry had fit into that tiny amount of time they had spent together), and in all his clumsiness and dorkiness Louis found him absolutely hilarious. Yet despite that, Harry was very bright and intelligent, with clear points of view and opinions. Louis was pretty sure that he could've listened to Harry for hours without getting bored. And Louis felt like Harry _understood_ him. If Louis didn't quite know how to finish a sentence, Harry finished it for him in a way Louis would have if he had found the words. It was like Louis had known Harry for his whole life.

Louis' phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn't have to check it out to know who had texted him, and as he took a look at his phone screen he was proven right.

"Whatcha up to today babe? Xx"

Louis stared at the words her girlfriend had written a few moments ago. For some reason it felt like the letters on the screen were making fun of him, and the text made him feel like there was a weight on his chest. There was no rational reason for it – or at least Louis pretended there wasn't –no rational reason for the guilt. Yet he still decided to answer the text later, regardless of his subconscious that was adding more weights onto his chest. He would answer right after this period.

Instead of answering he changed the settings of his phone, turning the vibrate off. He tucked his phone deep into his pocket and let his mind get distracted again. Beside him, Liam was making notes of the professor's lecture and according to his focused gaze he was really listening and concentrating, so Louis decided that he could copy Liam's notes later. It would probably require a lot of persuasion and a promise to do the dishes for the rest of the week since Liam didn't really approve copying ("Louis, you need to listen and study by yourself, you will learn nothing if you just copy my notes"), but Louis thought it was worth it. Liam would come around with a bit of sweet talk. Right now Louis wasn't in a mood to focus on monotonous voice that kept talking about topic Louis couldn't even name.

The rest of the period he kept thinking about Harry. In a completely platonic way, of course. He thought about a book Harry had showed him and the discussions they had had. He thought about how Harry laughed at Louis’ jokes (even at the ones that weren't so funny), and the way Harry laughed at his _own_ incredibly dumb jokes as well. He thought about Harry's tattoos and Harry's clothes and Harry's hair and Harry's long and thin legs in those black, worn out jeans. He thought about Harry's deep and raspy voice and Harry's pink and plumb lips curling into a smile. And oh, how soft those lips must had been...

Louis inhaled sharply. What the fuck.

The voices in his head reminded him of their existence. He closed his eyes as his stomach twisted at the familiar thoughts, how they slowly consumed him. It wasn't right. He wasn't thinking straight. And in a matter of second he found the dark irony of that thought - he wasn't thinking _straight_. The voices in his head mocked him, abused him. He wanted them to stop.

Louis hadn't noticed the fact he had been squeezing a pencil in his hand until it let out a little crack. That made him flinch and open his eyes, it made his mind return to the classroom he was currently in. Louis glanced around, searching marks of someone noticing his flinch, but it seemed like no one had. People were just swaying or listening to the professor in an apparent boredom. Louis cleared his throat quietly, took a deep breath and glanced at Liam's notes to find out about the topic the professor was talking about. He might as well listen because thinking wouldn't do anything. Thinking was something that was absolutely unnecessary. Especially because he had already promised that he would see Harry after the school at the library (and he couldn’t even cancel the plan since he didn’t have, as he now realized, Harry’s phone number). He would go there. And he would act all normal with him. And there would be no problem. And the thoughts wouldn't be bothering him.

Before concentrating on the professor, he did one last thing. He dug his phone from his pocket.

"Sorry babe, big project due tomorrow, see you some other day xx"

 

***

 

"Fuck. Fucking shit, Liam. I'm fucking fucked. Fuck. I mean-"

"-let me guess, 'fuck'?" Liam prompted, grinning at Louis’ wide vocabulary.

Louis crunched a piece of paper and threw it at Liam. He was about to rip his hair off because he was, well, fucking fucked, and there Liam was, making fun of him like a fucking prick. Louis huffed and barely resisted the urge to punch something. Or maybe he could just punch Liam.

"Fuck."

"I'm no help with literature Louis, you know that."

Louis didn't know how exactly he had gotten himself into a position where he had his sadly famous literature project due to the next day. Well, that was a lie, actually. He sure did know how he was in a position like that, but he preferred pretending that he didn't.

It had nothing to do with a curly-haired Harry Fucking Hipster Bookworm Styles. (Louis couldn't even insult Harry properly, which was something he found very sad. Hipster Bookworm. Really.). 

"Yeah, you're definitely no help, you're pretty much useless little-"

Liam just laughed. "Don't blame it on me, it's not my fault you have apparently slept in that library since you've got literally nothing done."

"I didn't _sleep_ and I don't have _nothing_ done," Louis snarled.  Liam was dumb. Literature was dumb. And besides, he had gotten something done. Like, a little. Maybe.

"Are you sure you’re not on your period or something Louis?"

There was a glass full of water beside Louis. And a blink of an eye later there was a wet Liam and Louis who had thrown the water at Liam.

"What the fuck Louis?”

Louis threw the glass to the couch, somehow managing to not break it, and sat down without giving a second thought for making Liam absolutely soaking. Well, maybe he did give a second thought (as his subconscious told him that he actually was acting like a fucking twelve-year-old girl on her first ever period), but he was too pissed and frustrated to show any kind of remorse.

Regardless of the fact Louis was ignoring Liam, he still saw Liam shaking his head. “Call Zayn, he's great with literature. I hope he doesn’t help you though ‘cause you’re an arse, Louis."

Liam got up from the armchair the water still streaming down him. Louis found that very satisfying. After all Liam had been an annoying prick, regardless of the fact he might have tried to help a little. When Liam passed Louis he didn’t forget to make sure that some of the water dropped onto Louis’ project materials, making the ink on them spread on the papers.

"Oh and Louis?" Liam said, glancing over his shoulder, when he was already near his bedroom door. "Remember when you asked me if you could borrow my notes? Well, guess whether you can borrow them now or not."

And then he walked to his own bedroom, slamming the door after himself.

Louis sighed. He was the master of procrastination, but this was bad even for him. He stared at the blank piece of paper that was supposed to include his notes and plans. The white fabric was as empty as his mind currently was. Louis wondered if someone could somehow measure whether there was actually anything going on in his brain. He was pretty sure there was not.

After staring at the paper for a few minutes, Louis surrendered and started to search for his phone. He had to rummage the whole couch in order to find it under a cushion (how had it gotten there, anyway?) that was, of course, the last of the three cushions he checked.

Four new messages from El.

One missed call. Which was from El, too.

Louis felt a piercing guilt in his stomach. He had been a shit of a boyfriend lately, and he knew it better than well. But the thing was, he didn’t _want_ to be a bad boyfriend. He wanted to be a good, loving, selfless boyfriend who would pick his girlfriend up and be with her every spare moment he had. He wanted to be a normal boyfriend. That was the key word, actually – he wanted to be _normal_.

He just couldn't.

The thought of Eleanor triggered the part of his mind that he rather kept quiet. He almost felt physically how the thoughts in his head started to raise, how they made the flashes of different things – guilt, adrenalin, loathe – flow through his veins. He felt the sick feeling in his stomach and the whispers in his ears, the whispers that weren’t actually there but felt as if they had been.

Quickly, before he felt any more of it, he dialled Zayn's number. It only rang once until he heard a familiar, thick accent at the other side of the line.

"Louis 'vas up bro?"

Louis let out a breath that he had been holding for an amount of time that felt like a year. It was probably only a matter of seconds, though, but.

"Hey Zayn, are you busy right now?"

"A little, yeah, Perrie's over-"

Oh. Of course, Louis thought. Perrie. Zayn had been seeing her lately, and Louis knew it was about to get more serious, as much as Zayn tried to pretend it wasn't. But Louis liked Perrie, he really did, and he knew she made Zayn happy – so Louis was really rooting for their relationship. As much as he always teased Zayn about it.

"-why mate?"

"I'm just pretty fucked with this literature thing, but yeah.”

“You okay? I mean, if you really need help-“

Louis smiled. Zayn had always put Louis before anyone, and Louis couldn’t quite figure why. Louis was so grateful for it, though, and most of the time he felt like he could’ve never given Zayn back as much as Zayn had gave him. Out of all people, Zayn was probably the one who knew the most about Louis, and sometimes Louis wished he wouldn’t have known as much as he did. And sometimes Louis wished that he had known more.

“No, seriously, it’s okay, I'll work something out."

"You always do, Lou."

Louis’ smile deepened. His friends were great, even if they were a little annoying sometimes (Louis' gaze wandered to Liam's door. He should apologize, probably.).

"Yeah, I will Zaynie. Now get that girl."

Instead of getting defensive like usually, Zayn laughed. "Yeah."

"And Zayn?"

"Yeah mate?"

"If Liam like, calls you to rant about me or something can you just kinda defend me and try to make him less mad?"

"What did you do Louis...?"

"...I kinda threw a glass of water at him."

"What the fuck Lou."

Louis just grinned. "Thanks babe. Have fun, but not too fun, you don't want to break your bed."

After the call Louis smiled by himself for a moment. He had the greatest bunch of friends, and most of the time he just wondered how they kept up with him. Louis wasn’t the easiest person to deal with, and he knew it. A part of him, the part of the others saw, was pretty much proud of the little difficult personality of his. But the part of him that he kept hidden was the one that made him feel insecure about it, and wonder how anyone could ever have thought of him as a person they could actually like. And that was why his friends were so important to him – his friends were pretty much all he had. Except, Louis suddenly reminded himself, he did have Eleanor, too.

And just like that the piercing pain of guilt was back again.

Eleanor.

Louis unlocked his phone again, and opened his girlfriend's texts  accompanied by a heavy sigh.

 

"Hi love, whatcha up to today? xx"

"I miss you Lou"

"Is there something wrong babe"

"I feel like you're avoiding me..."

 

Louis closed his eyes, his lips pressed into a tight line. Fuck. Suddenly a stupid work of literature felt like such a tiny problem. For the first time during the two years they had been dating, Louis felt like he was about to ruin the relationship between him and Eleanor. Yet even though everything had gone well there had always been a little suspicion in Louis' mind. He had always managed to convince himself that he could do it. He had made the voices in his head shut up, buried them deep into his subconscious, but now they were stronger than ever.

The worst part of it was that he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to stop himself from ruining it all.

There was nothing wrong with Eleanor. There was nothing wrong with their relationship. What was wrong was Louis.

_What the fuck have you become Louis, I thought you were better than this._

"Shut up," Louis whispered. The sound was barely audible, just a tiny breath that disappeared into the air like it had never even existed.

But it didn’t shut up.

Louis grabbed his phone again and stumbled through the room to find his headphones, only to find out he had actually been sitting on them for the whole time. He plugged them in and put the music on shuffle, letting the chance decide the mood of the songs, on a little too high volume. And by “a little” Louis basically meant a volume that was high enough to hurt his ears and make his head ache – high enough to suffocate his own thoughts.

For Louis’ fortune, his shuffle was in a good mood, giving him quick-tempo songs with happy lyrics. Music was the ruler of his mood – angry music equalled angry Louis, sad music sad Louis, and happy music happy Louis. He had even a secret passion for singing, but he only let his chords out when he was very alone and he knew no one could hear. Louis hummed, a ghost of a smile finally reaching his lips.

That was when an idea popped into his mind. A stupid and ridiculous and probably a little pathetic and yes, stupid, idea. Louis was about to reject the thought, but then his eyes happened to side-eye the pile of books and papers. It gave him an excuse to take the idea to consideration, but deep inside his mind Louis knew he had already decided that it would be the only possibility to survive from the project that had been haunting his mind for weeks.

Harry was, after all, a sophisticated and smart expert of literature.

Fifteen minutes later, and Louis was already rushing through the marble floor of the library. He was praying that Harry was spending his Wednesday evening by reading books. Louis satisfied the thoughts in his head with an explanation of needing to ask for Harry’s help. He would’ve been screwed without any help for the project; it was just a cold and hard fact.

And there he was. With an unusually thick book in his hands. Louis smiled a little before clearing his throat. The mop of curls popped up instantly, revealing green eyes that were confused at first, but in half of a second they lit up along with a dimply smile.

Suddenly Louis felt a little weak.

“Louis, hi!” Harry said, but his raspy voice cracked, which made the sentence sound like a squeak of some distressed animal. A furious blush covered Harry’s face as he coughed sheepishly. “Oops.”

Louis just laughed. Harry was probably the only person in the world who would actually apologize for a crack of his voice. Harry joined to his laughter, the tiny blush starting to settle already. Louis thought it was kind of unfortunate; he really liked the pink colour on Harry’s defined cheeks. He probably liked it way more than he should have. But he didn't care.

The laughter didn’t last for long – slowly it turned into a warm smile onto Louis’ face. His eyes traced the line from Harry’s eyes to his arm, over the tattoos, to his hand and fingers that were closing the huge book, and the word came out of his mouth more gentle than he had intended to.

“Hi."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again im begging for ur comments pls tell me what u think like honest opinions if it sucks then tell me it sucks and tell me why and if it doesnt suck then please let me know so i know i can keep going the way i currently am okay and oh if you happen to like it please leave kudos thank u peace


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And that’s why Louis reminded Harry of autumn. Harry had seen Louis’ sunny day, but somehow he knew that Louis had his windy and rainy days too. And Harry wanted to see them because he was positive that Louis’ moody days weren’t ugly; but beautiful in their own kind of way, like the moody days of autumn. Harry wanted to explore Louis with all of his days, from sunny to windy to rainy, and he only wished that Louis would give him a chance to do so. Little did he know as he wished he would see the rainy days too, though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for possible typos and stuff bc im very tired i havent slept in 35 hours and im like about to fall asleep or die but yeah i hope you enjoy !!

Usually, Harry was sure about people.

Harry was sure that a cashier in a nearest store of the library was desperate for attention. It was in the way that about twenty-five year old woman walked; in the way her outfit was a little too dapper, her hair little too sleek, her make-up a little too precise and her facial expressions a little too intended.  

Harry was sure that his sister would call within two days and ask whether Harry had finally gotten a new job or not, and after Harry would say no, his sister would keep a friendly yet still stiff lecture about singing not being enough. He knew it would be within the next two days because she hadn't talk to him in three days, and she always called every four or five days.

Harry was sure that an old man that was currently walking in front of him wasn’t single; it was in the way the man didn’t hurry; how his wrinkly features lit up when he saw a young couple with their dog; how he picked up a flower and treated it like it was an valuable treasure he was about to give someone.

But Harry wasn’t sure about Louis. Louis was like fire – at one second fire could be tiny and completely under control, and in a blink of an eye it could grow to a power that couldn’t be tamed. Louis was a baby tiger – not a grown up with rooted routines and ways of behaviour, but a little tiger that was still unpredictable and full of new, yet unseen plans. Louis was a dice that could’ve gotten a completely different number with a completely alike toss. Harry didn’t know what to expect from Louis.

But Harry liked Louis. He really did. He liked every bit of the unpredictable boy he had only known for about a week. even though it felt like the bond between them was and had always been eternal. Harry liked the way Louis’ eyes lit up when he talked about football and other interests. Harry liked how Louis’ voice was like a mixture of hot chocolate and marshmallows and bit of pepper that gave it an interesting and unique flavour. Harry liked Louis’ jokes, he really did, and the way Louis teased him about Harry’s book obsessions and weird choices of words. Harry liked how Louis was _Louis_ , how every second Harry spent with Louis was just pure and huge dose of radiating Louis.

Harry just really liked Louis.

The literature project Harry had helped Louis with had been fun to do. Harry remembered perfectly the bubbly joy inside of him when Louis had appeared to the library, carrying a huge pile of materials they needed. And while they had actually worked they had also discussed about everything possible. Well, in all honesty Harry had done most of the work; but he didn’t mind. He enjoyed it, especially because the one he was helping happened to be Louis.

The morning was beautiful. Harry was walking along the bank of a river in a nice little park, breathing in the fresh air and admiring the view that was bathing in the first shines of the raising day. The autumn leaves had coloured the park in shades of yellow and red, making the scene seem like an aquarelle. Harry loved autumn. He loved the bright colours and the tangy air that steamed his exhales into a light puffs. And this morning happened to be especially beautiful, thanks to the sun that was slowly raising from behind the horizon, bringing the colours alive in a way Harry couldn’t really put into words.

Louis reminded Harry of autumn. Autumn was something Harry tended to describe as a bipolar season: some days were absolutely gorgeous, like the one Harry was currently experiencing, but there was more to the autumn than just that. The windy days with clouds that only revealed rays of sunshine every now and then (and unlike many people, Harry loved the way wind clung into his hair and clothes, and he sure appreciated the leaves that flow in the air with the gusts), and the dark rainy days that were Harry’s favourites (which probably sounded very unusual and weird for many people since they usually didn't like the rain and the gloomy weather). Harry loved those days; he loved how he could just be cuddled up into a huge sofa with some great book in his hands, a cup of tea warming him up during the cold evenings.

And that’s why Louis reminded Harry of autumn. Harry had seen Louis’ sunny day with smiles and laughs, but somehow he knew that Louis had his windy and rainy days too. And Harry wanted to see them because he was positive that Louis’ moody days weren’t ugly; but beautiful in their own kind of way, like the moody days of autumn that Harry found oh-so-graceful. Harry wanted to explore Louis, and not just Louis with his good, sunny days but with all of his days, from sunny to windy to rainy, and he only wished that Louis would give him a chance to do so. Little did he know as he wished he would see the rainy days too, though; he was closer to that than he ever would have thought of as he walked in that beautiful morning he so much admired.

A wooden bench that was in a safe place behind a couple of trees was Harry’s favourite place in the park. Sometimes when it was warm enough he spent hours sitting there, usually just thinking about everything possible and nothing at all. And that was what he was planning to do now, too. The bench was his own secret place – the place he had never mentioned to anyone so no one could ever even think about finding him there. That was the place he had dedicated to himself and himself only, in cases he wanted to be alone with his thoughts that were usually so loud he needed to listen to them in his very own and lonely company.

Harry didn’t really know much about Louis. Somehow they had never really changed personal informations – they hadn’t talked about their families, their current life situations or other things like that. They had just talked about each other’s interests, like sports and reading; general issues, like latest news and even their personal values; and most of the time they just joked around, making each other laugh.

Yet for some reason Harry felt like there might have finally been a person he could bring to his secret place. Maybe it was a good thing, that he really didn't know anything about Louis nor did Louis know anything about him; maybe the reason their cooperation was so effortless and pure was because only their purest parts had met each other, leaving the irrelevant details hidden.

Harry really liked Louis, but he wasn’t sure about the boy that reminded him of autumn.

 

***

 

Zayn collapsed to the sofa next to Louis and threw his feet to Louis' lap. Louis snorted a quiet, disapproving "hey", but Zayn just laughed and adjusted himself better on the sofa. Sometimes Louis’ regretted the decision to give Zayn and Niall the keys to their flat – especially when the two of them acted like they owned the whole fucking place. Like Zayn currently acted.

"Where's Liam?" the black-haired boy asked, reaching for the remote and starting to surf the channels. Louis rolled his eyes but didn't push Zayn away, as much as the – probably smelly – feet in his lap were annoying him.

"On his way home," Louis said, eyeing the television. "This show is terrible," he growled as Zayn stopped the channel surfing to take a better look at a reality show that was on. Louis wasn’t really a sucker for reality shows; he had enough to deal with just by having the group of friends that he did. Zayn just laughed.

"It's not that bad. These people are so dumb, almost dumber than you-"

"Hey! You're one to speak, you’re like from that reality show yourself," Louis refused as Zayn just laughed at his reaction.

"You're such an idiot..." Louis mumbled, shaking his head. At the same time they heard the door open, and soon Liam stepped in, taking off the black leather jacket he was wearing.

"Move, Zayn, you're taking like... the whole... sofa..." Liam muttered as he forced Zayn's legs away and fell to the couch between the two boys. Louis couldn’t be bothered to help by making some room; he decided that as Zayn was a guest, it was Zayn’s duty to move.

"Hello to you, too," Zayn mumbled as Liam adjusted himself better without really greeting the boys, and by that little complaint Zayn earned a gentle punch from Liam's elbow.

“It’s not my fault that you’re taking, like, half of our sofa. Seriously, Zayn, soon I’m gonna tell you to buy your own and bring it here. Actually, you could do that while I’m in Spain.”

Liam had been planning the holiday in Spain for months already. He was going there with his family, and Louis couldn’t lie – he was absolutely jealous for the holiday, because the weather in London didn’t ever lack of rain, especially during autumn. However, despite the little bit of jealousy Louis had towards Liam’s holiday, he had also found a good side about it; after one week he would have the whole flat for himself. Even though Louis loved living with one of his best friends, he still appreciated his own space every now and then, and the holiday gave him an opportunity for that. And since Liam would be gone for one week, it meant Louis had seven long days to destroy their flat completely before Liam's return.

For a moment the three of them sat in silence, staring at the reality show. Louis didn’t really focus on it, though, and he was pretty sure neither did the other lads too, but it didn’t really matter. Louis loved the fact he could just be in silence without feeling awkward or the need to fill the emptiness with words that weren’t really necessary – he preferred being quiet when the situation was good for a comfortable silence.

However, after a while Liam spoke.

"Hey, Lou... I saw Eleanor,” said softly, turning to look at Louis, and something in his tone caught Louis' attention. Louis’ blue eyes gave Liam a questioning glance, waiting for him to add something.

"And... she just asked how you have been, since... she hasn't seen you in a while?"

Louis was caught off guard, and he didn't quite know what to answer. "Yeah, I... I haven't seen her. In a while.”

“Oh,” Liam said. Louis noticed that Zayn was listening, too – not that it bothered him, but somehow he felt like they had a superiority as there were the two of them and just the one and only Louis.

“Yeah, I've been... you know. Busy."

He felt Liam's examining eyes on him, and soon enough he also felt the slight burn of Zayn’s interested gaze.

"Busy? Louis..."

Louis frowned, wanting to get over the subject. "What? I _have_ been busy."

"She's your girlfriend, Louis... and that’s, like, the most overused excuse ever. What's going on?"

"Seriously, I've really had no time!" Louis snapped, and as soon as the words left his mouth he knew he had been too defensive. But he didn’t really care – after all, Liam was digging into his things, and Louis didn’t like that. He refused to believe that the topic itself was a sensitive one for him. The ball of guilt was already rolling down his stomach, making him want to squirm in discomfort.

Liam turned his gaze down. "'Kay, sorry. Anyway... she asked me to tell you to call her as soon as you could."

Louis resisted the urge to swallow, and tried to keep his voice casual and steady. "Yeah, I... I'll call her."

"Louis..." Zayn finally participated to the conversation; his ask coming out very softly. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," Louis mumbled, eyes locked to the television screen, although he didn't watch it. He just couldn't meet the gazes of the boys. He knew it would have made him feel the familiar lump in his throat as he tried to pretend he wasn't affected by the topic at all. He felt as they shared a silent glance, and maybe they thought that Louis didn't notice it, because Louis made sure he didn't react to it at all. He just wanted to get away from the pressuring situation. He repeated the words, with a bit more of faked confidence to make the words sound believable: “Everything’s fine.”

He didn't know whether the others had bought his words or not because neither of them said anything and Louis' eyes were till on the television screen. He hoped they had.

"In fact, I'm... I'll call her now," Louis said suddenly after a tiny moment of silence. He had procrastinated the phone call long enough already anyway, always making up excuses that he just sent by a text message. Without waiting for the other boys’ reactions he stood up and rushed away into his own room. He felt the elecricity in his every movement, every step he took towars his door. He felt the burning gazes on his back, but he ignored them as he shut the light door behind him.

Louis knew that the boys were having a whisper conversation in the living room due to the worry they had on him. They always did that, worried about him, even when there was nothing to worry about. Or that was what Louis tried to convince to himself – that there was nothing to worry about. He always wanted others to believe that, and maybe he wanted himself to believe it, too. It was just easier to pretend that nothing was wrong, because the alternative was way too depressing and Louis honestly wouldn't have known how to deal with "problems", if he had had such.

For a moment he just sat on his bed, staring at the phone in his hands. What was the problem here? She was Eleanor, his great, beautiful, understanding girlfriend. Nothing to be nervous about, right?

Right.

Yet still he couldn't choose her number just yet; he lingered the phone call until he realized he had already spent way too long time just by sitting on the bed. He searched her name and – cursed at himself because he actually had to courage himself by taking a deep breath – pressed the phone onto his ear. He didn’t even notice how he was nervously clenching the sheets on his bed with his hand. He felt the weight on his chest, which caused him to mentally kick his own head - why was he so nervous, anyway? It was just his bloody girlfriend, _his significant other_.

Soon he heard Eleanor's familiar voice.

"Lou, hi.”

Louis tried to figure out the tone of Eleanor’s voice. It was kind of careful, very gentle – maybe even uncertain. It made Louis want to squirm uncomfortably as he realized that he was the reason for the bit of fear in his girlfriend’s voice.

“Hey, El," Louis answered softly, swallowing quietly. "Uhm. Liam told me you two met."

"Yeah," Eleanor said. "Yeah, we did. I just... how are you? I haven't seen you in a while. I... I miss you."

Louis closed his eyes, feeling a bunch of guilt spreading to all over his body. "Yeah, I'm so sorry, babe... I've been so busy with school and practises... y'know, I'm fine, but tired."

"Oh," Eleanor mumbled. "Yeah, I... get it."

"How about you?" Louis asked, his throat dry and voice raspy because of that. The awkward tension was getting stronger and stronger, and he couldn’t remember a time he would have felt this awkward with Eleanor. Probably because it _never had_ been this awkward.

"I'm fine," Eleanor murmured.

Louis opened his eyes and took a deep breath. "M'sorry, El. I've been shitty, I know, I’m just-"

But he never finished the sentence. It was like Eleanor waited for a moment for him to continue, but when he didn’t she sighed on the other side of the line. "It's okay, Lou... I just. Wished you talked to me."

Louis frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean... you've been so distant. That's what you do when there's something going on."

Louis closed his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't know how to answer to that. Eleanor didn't, however, give him time to collect his words, before she continued: "Just... call me when you're ready to speak… please, Louis. If you need time, take some time, but call me when you’re ready, okay?"

"Okay," Louis whispered.

"Okay.” Eleanor paused for a moment, letting the silence hang on the line. “Bye, Lou. Love you."

"Bye, El."

Louis ended the call and fell to his back onto his bed. He threw the phone next to him and buried his face into his hands, but he didn't give himself time to start thinking properly as he forced himself up.

He couldn’t let himself think. He was currently screwing up, he was about to ruin one of the few things he had succeeded in, and his mind couldn’t deal with it. Louis wanted to turn his mind off, maybe slip into a coma to avoid everything that included the words “think” and “use brain”, but unfortunately he couldn’t do that.

Therefore, before he even realized he was rushing through their flat, taking his coat with a furry collar and called out his "bye" and "I don't know when I'll be back" to the boys, and then he was out, wandering around.

It didn’t take him a lot of time before he found himself in front of the red building. His mind told him that the library wasn't a good idea, but his legs didn't listen - soon they were hopping up the stairs. One by one the steps decreased until there was none of them left.

The scent of library that Louis had gotten familiar to greeted him as soon as he opened the heavy door. He ambled through the building in some kind of trance; he didn't have to think where to go as his feet just led him to his favourite place in the library. Maybe his thoughts had, after all, went off, because there was nothing going through his mind as he passed the last a couple of bookshelves.

And there Harry was, just like Louis had subconsciously known he would be. Louis' mind fell instantly into a peaceful state. It was something Harry’s presence caused; a feeling of secure and calmness, a warm feeling in the places he usually felt empty. He enjoyed the silence in his head for a moment, just letting himself stare at the reading boy. Was it creepy? Maybe a little. Did Louis care? Not at all.

After a while Louis cleared his throat, trying to catch Harry's attention. "Harry?"

The mop of curls swung as Harry snapped his head back. A bright smile lit up on his face immediately, making Louis feel even warmer inside. Something about the green eyes made him feel like he was home.

"Louis!” Harry grinned, closing the book after marking the page he was on. "Saturday in library, huh?"

"I was... kinda bored," Louis said a little sheepishly, sitting to the other bench. Harry’s eyes followed his every movement, the tiny smile playing on his pink lips.

"By all means," Harry said, "I think there's no better way to spend Saturday."

"Mmh,” Louis mumbled, because he couldn’t really agree with the statement. Harry narrowed his eyes a little, grinning at the same time. The dimples on Harry’s cheeks got even more defined when the curly-haired boy grinned, and Louis couldn’t help but notice how deep and cute they were. Or, someone could have found them cute, Louis corrected in his mind, pushing the dozens of adjectives his mind offered to describe Harry’s smile.

There was a curious expression on Harry’s face, and just as Louis was about to ask about it, Harry opened his mouth. "You don't seem like a person that reads a lot, though. Or spends time in a library."

Louis frowned. Was that a question?

"Yeah, I don't read that much." Then he was quiet for a moment, turning his eyes off Harry. "Actually I usually don't read at all, unless I'm forced to."

Harry snorted. "I figured."

"What? Don't be such a judgy!" Louis defended himself, a little grin trying to fight its way onto his face.

"M'not!" Harry grinned and shrugged. "I just... that's the case usually with sporty, cool lads like you. You don't see the beauty of literature.”

“Are you saying doing sports prevents you from being sophisticated, Harold? Is that it?”

“No!” Harry laughed. “I do sports, and as you know, I’m very sophisticated. “

Louis gave Harry’s leg a little kick with his own. Smug little shit. “Then what’s the problem?”

“You know, sometimes your kind of guys are just kinda oblivious about it."

Louis’ mood was starting to get a little competitive, as that was one of his dominating personal traits. Was Harry trying to give a hint about his intelligence? “Oh, please, enlighten me more Harry.”

Harry narrowed his eyes a little. “Many popular athletes don’t know how to appreciate how great literature and, you know, reading are. You just kinda live in your own little bubble of sports and ignore the fact there are some educating hobbies as well.”

Something about Harry’s words made Louis’ head snap, and before he could even think about it, the words were already flowing out of his mouth. "I've never understood reading. It's like, waste of time? You spend hours reading some unreal shit and what do you get from it? Nothing. And then people praise books and act like they're the most important thing in the world, and if you don't read, you're automatically an uneducated caveman. I don't get it, it's actually fucking ridiculous."

Harry seemed to be caught off the guard. He stared at Louis for a second, but then he narrowed his eyes a little. "Well that's because you don't understand it, because you don't get it. You know, for some people reading is more than just 'unreal shit'. It's a change to go to a different place, to experience new things you normally couldn't, and you can just forget everything and it can be just... I dunno, some kind of an escape."

Louis stared at Harry. His voice hadn't risen a bit, but there was a passionate fire lighten up in his green eyes, and Louis instantly understood the importance of books to Harry. He knew it, because there were things he felt the same way about. The air between them was thick, so thick Louis thought he probably could have cut a nice slice of it without any problems. But the distracting thought was soon gone as Harry's words sunk in, as his brain started to process them.

"An escape," Louis repeated quietly.

"You know, sometimes you need to get your mind off things and-"

"I know," Louis said quickly, interrupting Harry. Then he blushed slightly and tipped his head down to stare at his hands. "You know, I... I do that too, but sport's my way of escaping."

"Oh," Harry mumbled quietly. An electric tension settled back in between them, and Louis waited for a moment in case Harry would break it, but he didn’t. The thought of cutting air came back to Louis' mind, and for a moment he considered asking Harry's opinion on the thickness of the air. But it would've probably been ridiculous. Either way, Harry didn't say a word - therefore it was Louis who broke the silence.

“”So… yeah. I get it. Sorry."

"S'okay," Harry murmured with a little laugh, but Louis could tell that behind those green eyes was some serious thinking going on. It was like there was a little engine behind his eyes, processing every information Louis' body language gave out. The engine examined Louis so deeply he felt almost intimidated.

"What do you escape from, Louis?"

Louis froze. He used all his will power so he wouldn't hitch, and mumbled quickly: "You know, normal stuff... like when I'm stressed or, y'know, school, people."

As Louis muttered the incoherent words out, he could already tell that Harry saw through his lie, yet he curly-haired boy said nothing about it. He didn't approve either or act like he had bought it, he just watched Louis carefully. The engine was working with full power again, Louis was sure of it. He swallowed and nodded towards Harry, as a weak attempt to turn the conversation away from him. "How about you? What do you... escape from?"

Harry stared intently into Louis' eyes for a moment. The green of Harry's eyes was consuming; Louis thought he would probably never get that colour out of his mind, no matter what he did.

"The world. I just want to escape from all the bad that's happening, you know... I'd like to believe that there are good things going on and that all the drama would exist only in books and, I dunno, other arts. Like ‘bad’ would be just... something we made up."

Louis' mouth had opened slightly as he listened to the boy. There Harry was, spilling his truthful point of view for Louis to see, after swallowing Louis' lie though it had clearly been everything but true.

Before Louis managed to stop himself, before the voices in his head stopped him, he choked the words out. "Myself. I escape from... myself."

The next thing he knew was that he was up, rushing past Harry, muttering something incoherent that was close to "sorry, I gotta go, see you, maybe, possibly". He ignored Harry's deep, worried voice calling his name, his green eyes shining with concern - he needed to go. He needed to be somewhere else. In fact, anywhere else but there.

That night Louis called Eleanor, but the voices just didn't go away. Not when he kissed Eleanor roughly and needly, not when Eleanor was panting softly his name as he was buried deep inside her, not when he came and collapsed onto her in exhaustion, not when Eleanor whispered pretty things into his ear before falling asleep.

No, the voices didn't leave him alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for the last bit it made me feel v uncomfortable but it had to be done dont kill me
> 
> and thank u for reading srsly and again and again ur comments and kudos would be highly appreciated and id really like to know how you felt about harrys pov was it good or was it bad its important for me to know so pLS comment i will give you food and a hug okay big love


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Louis tried to deny a lot of things; but mostly the fact he had thought about Harry Styles during sex with his girlfriend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello after that traumatic last paragraph of the last chapter lets move on and get the things going to the right direction and as the summary (i accidentally wrote cummary at first i shit you not) tells you louis wasnt actually that into that last paragraph either bc he happens to be into very different things (cough cock cough)

Louis was denying a lot of things.

It had been three days since the night with Eleanor, and he hadn't had any contact with her after that. He had literally ignored the girl, skipping the parts of his school days that could have required seeing Eleanor. He had even ignored all the texts and calls from the pretty brunette, even though it made him feel guilty, it made him feel like he was cold and selfish. Which he probably was, but.

He just couldn't face Eleanor.

That was when it came back to denying things. Or more accurately, _trying_ to deny things.

Because Louis really tried. He _tried_ to deny the fact there was two different parts of him, screaming at each other violently, trying to beat the other. It was like a World War III in his head - a battle between his feelings and the thoughts. Both of which he would have wanted to shut down and ignore. Not even music, his usual escape, helped. Not football – the practices he had been in had just made the sounds in his head a little quieter. But there hadn’t been a peaceful second in his head since, as much as he tried to deny the war in his mind.

Louis tried to deny the fact he had also been ignoring his friends. To ignore Eleanor he also had to ignore the people that might have asked him about it; and Louis really wasn’t in a mood for questions. So when Niall asked him to mess around with a football, Louis told he had to go for a run for the sake of football; when Liam asked if Louis could have a movie night with him, Louis said he had an essay due the next day (which was why he had to spend the rest of the evening in his room, pretending to be writing an essay that didn't even exist); and when Zayn asked if Louis could help with Perrie’s birthday gift, Louis said he had a stomach ache (“A bad one, sorry mate, I think I’m actually gonna throw up.”).

But most of all, Louis tried to deny the fact the night with Eleanor hadn't been the same.

He tried to deny that when he had looked into Eleanor's hazel eyes, all he had seen were the piercing green ones. When he had run his hands through her long, curly hair, he had only thought about what would the short, even curlier locks feel like between his fingers. When he had smelled her familiar perfume, his nose tried to memorize the scent of vanilla that he connected to the scent of old books. When he had heard her high whispers, he had only wanted to hear the moans of the low, raspy voice. And when he had finally reached his highs, the name on the verge of his lips hadn’t been the right one, and with the last bits of his self-control he had kept himself from groaning it out loud.

Yes, there were a lot of things Louis wanted to deny, and that's the reason he couldn't face Eleanor. He couldn't have even looked at her. Even the pictures of her made Louis feel guilty and his head scream. His emotions were screaming how he was doing the wrong thing by keeping up with Eleanor; and the thoughts - that he had lost the control over long, long time ago - were screaming how he was a failure of a man, in a voice that was a painfully clear and familiar memory in Louis' head, a memory that he had tried to get rid of for a time that felt like an eternity.

Louis tried to deny a lot of things; but mostly the fact he had thought about Harry Styles during sex with his girlfriend.

 

 ***

 

"Louis, damn it, shouldn't you concentrate on that project thing instead of playing fucking PlayStation?"

"Shut up Zayn and take a seat," Louis barked and kicked a blanket off the couch to give Zayn some room. He never took his eyes off the screen, though – after all, he was in the middle of an important game. That didn't bother Zayn, though, as the black-haired boy practically collapsed next to Louis and threw his legs to Louis' lap.

"Hey!"

"You're doing shitty anyway, there's no way you won't lose that," Zayn mumbled while adjusting himself better.

"No, actually, I wasn't doing shitty until _you_ popped out," Louis snapped, but gave up and put the controller to the table.

"Yes you were."

"Was not."

Zayn grinned. "Either way, you should be doing that uni thing you told me about. I haven't seen you doing shit."

Oh, right, Louis thought. He might have told Zayn about a project that he actually didn't even have but what was his excuse to spend time in a place that he had gotten extremely used to - library. Actually, the project had been his excuse _before_ the little incident with Harry that had lead into the unfortunate night with Eleanor. At the same second Louis thought of the word "unfortunate" he tried to erase it from his mind, failing miserably.

"So you admit that you've been stalking me Zac?"

Zayn rolled his eyes. "Seriously though, Louis. What's going on? You've been acting weird lately."

"Gee, thanks."

"It's not an insult, Louis, and I'm not gonna let you get away with it without you telling me what's wrong."

Louis swallowed. He tried to look busy tracing his fingers on his thigh, contemplating what to say, but he knew he couldn't trick Zayn. In fact, Zayn was the last person he could ever trick - Zayn just knew him. They had known for ages and they had always had a special bond. It was nothing that they had said out loud, but it had been there since the first day they had met in the middle school. Zayn had been a quiet, lonely wolf, but for some reason he had been the one to caught the eye of 11 year old, social and - as Louis had to admit - very annoying Louis. That Louis had tried to call Zayn out for being an antisocial loner, but Zayn had called him "a fricking self-centered brick with a tiny wiener" (well, they were 11), and that was the very beginning of their friendship.

"Louis," Zayn said with a soft voice. "Just talk to me. You don't have to tell what exactly is bothering you, but tell me something, I'm fucking worried about you mate."

Louis kept his eyes tightly on his hands that were now lying on his lap.

"Zayn..."

Zayn didn't say a word as he moved closer to Louis, and soon Louis was tucked to Zayn's side. Louis knew it was a wordless suggestion for him to talk.

"I'm. I don't. Uhm."

Louis stumbled with is quiet words. He didn't exactly know what to say. He didn't even know what to think.

"I don't know what to think, Zayn."

Well. At least he was being honest.

"About what?"

"About." Louis had a pause, noticing that he had started to tap his fingers against his thigh rapidly. "About myself."

He knew he wasn't probably making any sense and he was probably being very frustrating and Zayn was probably considering beating the words out of him. Louis shuddered at the thought and cleared his throat.

"I met someone."

Zayn didn't answer, ao after a while Louis took a deep breath and continued. "I met someone and... something happened..."

Louis could almost hear Zayn's brows frowning and his brain starting to work on Louis' words.

"Wait, Louis, do you mean... you've been distant with Eleanor..."

"No!" Louis almost cried out as soon as he realized what Zayn was suggesting. "No," he repeated with more quiet tone. "I haven't... cheated on her. No, God no."

And that was when a seed of suspicion and guilt was sown into his mind. He hadn’t cheated on Eleanor, but then, where was the line? He _had_ thought about someone else during sex, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And that got Louis’ heart beating faster as he tried to push the thought of his mind, trying to make himself believe how ridiculous the claim actually was. But the voice in his head was asking him; _was it, really, ridiculous to consider that as cheating?_

"Sorry," Zayn said immediately, his voice being sheepish. "I just... had to ask. Sorry."

Louis nodded. "Yeah."

"So you met someone."

"Yeah," Louis whispered again.

"But?" Zayn prompted.

"But... I'm confused. And. I've started remembering. Things. And... I don't know. But. I. I like him. Like... a lot."

It felt like Zayn's breathing stopped. No, Louis took that back - it felt like the _whole world_ stopped.

"Him?"

Louis tensed for a moment, and then he shuttered quietly, his voice being nearly apologetic: "Ye- yeah, him."

"Okay," Zayn said gently. Louis felt his calming hand stroking Louis' arm, and he let out a shaky breath he had never realized he was holding. He felt the relief all around his body, and for a tiniest moment the voices in his head were quiet.

"Okay," Louis repeated.

"Who is he?" Zayn said carefully, like he was testing a thin ice.

"Harry," Louis whispered. He knew that probably wasn't what Zayn had meant, but he didn't really care.

"Harry."

"Yeah."

Zayn's hand was still stroking Louis, and Louis was thankful for that - it was probably pretty much only thing keeping him together. But now Louis was feeling calm enough, and he had Zayn, and he could trust Zayn, and Zayn wouldn't judge him, and Zayn would listen to him. And Louis needed to talk.

His voice, though, came out barely audible, it wasn't even a whisper. "Zayn, I like him. And I don't know what to do."

Zayn was quiet for a moment. Louis realized he was trembling, especially his arms and hands that he just couldn't keep still.

"Okay. And this Harry guy is the reason you've been acting weird and avoiding everyone?"

It took a few seconds for Louis to let the words sink in. And then, suddenly without any warning, his whole body was fuming.

"No." Louis pushed Zayn away. " _Harry_ is not the reason for anything."

Harry _is not the reason I can't make my thoughts stop._ Harry _is not the reason I am the way I am._ Harry _is not the reason people can't accept me._ Harry _is not the fucking reason_ I _can't accept me.  
_ Harry _is not the motherfucking reason I hate myself._

Yet Louis didn't say any of it out loud. He just repeated: " _Harry_ is not the reason for _anything_."

Zayn looked alarmed, and sorry, and confused, and regretful, and scared, and Louis didn't care. Or maybe he did, but his pride didn't let him show it.

"You know what? Fuck you, Zayn."

Louis stormed out of the room. Subconsciously he already knew where he was headed to as he grabbed his jacket and opened the door. He watched his steps as he hopped over the step, and turned, and-

"Oh, what the f-"

Louis felt how he bumped into something - _someone_ -, stumbled backwards and looked up at the same time. The familiar voice was already apologizing, mumbling "sorries", still staring at his too big feet, and Louis let out a quiet "the fuck".

"-didn't see, sorry, m'a..."

And then Harry looked up, only to meet Louis' blue eyes.

"...Louis."

Saying that they stared at each other in confusion was putting it lightly as the world was completely still for a moment. There was only one thought in Louis' head - had he actually bumped into Harry _fucking_ Styles on his _fucking_ front yard? But then the world was suddenly rotating again when they started speaking at the same time.

"Harry, what-"

"Sorry, I-"

They laughed, and Louis could see Harry biting his inner cheek to prevent him from smiling. It was so endearing - not that _Louis_ found it endearing, but hypothetically speaking - that Louis shook his head and smiled.

"Styles, what the fuck are you doing at my flat?"

Harry opened his mouth and glanced back and forth from Louis to his apartment. "I just, yeah. I found out your address. I, you know," Harry grinned extremely sheepishly, "searched it up."

Louis' jaw dropped slightly open. "You searched up my address."

"You make it sound like it's creepy!" Harry laughed defensively. "You seemed to be a little... upset the last time at the library and I wanted to make sure you are okay."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Harry said, getting awkward all of sudden. "So, are you, you know. Okay?"

Louis couldn't help but smile gently. "Yeah. In fact, I was about to go to the library, to find you and apologize. I mean, I just kinda left without saying anything."

"Oh, that's good," Harry said, and the smile returned to his face.

"So, I was about to go to see you anyway, but now you're here. So if you're not busy or anything, would you like to hang out or something?"

Harry grinned.

 

***

 

Louis didn't quite know how he had ended up spending the rest of the day with Harry Styles, but he had. And he didn't mind.

They had gone to McDonald's to grab something to eat. _Classy_ , Louis thought. Somehow they had sat there for hours talking about everything possible. Louis had learned that Harry was 17, he was from Cheshire but lived in London in a tiny flat with his friend's friend's friend's friend (Louis wasn't quite sure how many _friend's_ there was supposed to be so he just kind of went with it) who was apparently an annoying brat who never washed his clothes, he barely earned his living by singing every now and then in a pub that was owned by his friend (but it was okay because Harry "didn't really need that much money anyway since he enjoyed things that were free"), and he really, really loved not only reading but also writing, and of course, singing.

When Harry had asked things about Louis, Louis told all the basic stuff. About his friends ("and Zayn, well he's is a fucking prick, basically"), about football, even about his not-so-known interest for theater, drama and acting. Harry had listened to everything so carefully, like everything Louis said was the most interesting and amazing thing he had ever heard, and Louis was feeling like Harry was actually interested in _him_ , not his popularity or success.

Now they were in a Starbucks cafe ("Seriously, Harry?! Starbucks? Are you sure you're not actually a white girl disguised as a literature-freak hipster guy?") and Louis was sipping his latte and listening to Harry rambling about an artist, or a band, whose name Louis had already forgotten.

"-and like, I once saw them live, and they were incredible! I had to steal my flatmate's money to get to the gig and he didn't speak to me during the next month, which was okay though because he can be, you know, not the best company in the world sometimes, but yeah, so I saw them live and it was like the best gig I've ever seen, honestly Lou, it was so great."

Louis just grinned. "You're so weird, Har-"

Then he realized how effortlessly Harry had just called him with a nickname. Lou. Only his closest friends and his family called him that. Others weren't allowed to since Louis found the nickname a little - actually, a lot - childish. But coming from Harry, he noticed he didn't mind it, at all - it actually fit into Harry's mouth. It fit into Harry's mouth better than Louis would've approved.

"Lou? Earth is calling you," Harry said, waving his huge hand just in front of Louis' face. Louis shook his head to get out of the trance and smirked sheepishly. "Sorry, _Haz_ , got zoned out."

Harry's eyes lit up at the word "Haz", and to hide his genuine smile, Louis just grinned and shook his head. "It's starting to get a little late, don't you think?"

Harry shrugged. "A little, maybe. Depending whether you consider 10 PM as 'late'; I think that's when the day _starts_.”

Louis laughed. "I really like you, Styles."

Harry returned a smile that was so warm it almost made Louis feel uncomfortable. Just almost. "I really like you too, Tomlinson."

Louis gave him a smile that was probably a little awkward. 

"Anyways, 10 PM _is_ late when you have a football game at 8 AM and an alarm at 6 AM."

"Oh, right. Football," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "You know, books don't wake you up at 6 AM."

"Books don't give you trophies, either," Louis pointed out. "But seriously, I have to go."

"I think," Harry said, letting his gaze wander to the pastries at the counter, "that I still need one of those."

Then Harry's green eyes found their way back to Louis, and the gaze in them made Louis flinch. He didn't know what it was - he had no idea how to describe the emotion in them - but it was strong. Passionate even. And Louis had no idea how to react to that, how to respond to that, but Harry didn't really give him time.

"You know where to find me, Lou."

Louis was just able to nod. Then he turned around, threw his jacket onto his shoulders-

"And, you know, I also saved my number to your phone when you were in the toilet. So you don't have to 'find' me, because texting is a thing, too."

Louis glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "See ya, Haz."

 

*** 

 

After Louis got home, miraculously managing to avoid Liam, Louis went straight to his bed. He had a thought in his mind, a thought he tried to ignore as he settled himself into his sheets. But guring the dark hours in the middle of night Louis spent lying awake and trying to get some sleep (and failing at cathing a single second of rest) it a weak spot of him finally gave in. He couldn't get it out of his mind, and soon his phone was in his trembling hands, his fingers typing so many typos he probably corrected the text at least ten times.

"If you don't have plans for tomorrow, the game is at my uni... just thought I'd let you know..."

Louis didn't have to wait for long until his text message was answered.

"Go to sleep, Tomlinson, gotta have a good sleep if you're intending to amaze me with your footie skills tomorrow. H. xx"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dear darlings pls excuse my writing and maybe leave a comment and a kudos if u like bc im not sure whether you liked the last chapter or not since i got no comMENTS to the last one hint hint i really would highly highly appreciate comments bc then i know whether i write thE shit or just shit
> 
> thank u pls peace out girl scouts (if ur a boy thats fine too) (im sorry)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And when Liam was the first one to come to hug Louis as he celebrated his goal, Louis happened to glance at the audience that was cheering and yelling. And somehow, out of the whole crowd, his eyes managed to spot a familiar mop of curls, bouncing up and down, fists in the air, shouting with a ridiculously wide smile on his face - a smile Louis was able to see and recognize despite the space between them.
> 
> And a second later the moment was gone when the rest of Louis' teammates reached them, forming a big group around Louis. But the praises from his teammates were not nearly as rewarding as the tiny moment he had seen Harry cheering for him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello this chapter was pretty tough one to write thats why it took so long im sorry but lets not waste time one this stupid note lets just get going!!

When Louis was 10, going to his very first football game, he had been so nervous. Nervous in a good kind of way; excitement, butterflies in his stomach, his lips dancing between an excited smile and a concentrated, tight line. He wanted to show off to his teammates and his family; he wanted to show that he was a big boy now that he had been working hard and he was ready for the real deal. He wanted to show that he had become invincible, and he would be an important player some day; even more important that he was now.

He had experienced no such excitement before that day. Not the first day of school, or his birthday, or buying his very first toy car with his very own money (that he had gotten from his grandma) for the _very_ first time, or a day in a huge play park could even come close to the feeling Louis had had during the morning of the match. Louis had known it would be a good game.

And he had been right.

They had beaten the other team, and Louis had made the first goal of the game. It had been the greatest moment of his life so far. And to be honest, it was probably one of the greatest moments of 19-year-old Louis' life, too. But 10-year-old Louis had never been prouder of himself. He felt so happy. And the butterflies, the excitement, were still there, and they would be in the upcoming games too - they would be there until he would turn 13, but he didn't know that the amazing rush of adrenalin that was caused by the game would be gone after that, he didn't know that the excitement and the butterflies would turn into an escape and a serious _execution_ ; something he only did because he felt like he had to, because he had no other way to keep going. No, 10-year-old Louis didn't know it would be gone; in that moment, football was _the best thing in his life_ , and he would become a professional because he loved the game, and nothing could have _ever_ taken the joy of football away from Louis.

But now, in the present, 19-year-old Louis was standing on the side-line of the field, warming up in a chilly Saturday morning, and in that second it hit him.

The butterflies were there. For the first time in 6 years. 

For the first time in years he felt like he was about to do what he loved and what he did the best. He hadn't even realized how the love,  _the passion_ , had disappeared. He hadn't even realized he should have missed it. But now it all came crashing into Louis' mind, and he had to take a deep breath to process it. Football had once been his life; now it was an escape _from_ his life. But in that moment it felt like his life again.

And he had no idea why the excitement was back, but it was there nonetheless; the mixture of bubbly joy and carving nervousness, and Louis had to bend over for a few seconds to calm down the storm in his stomach. It was like his first ever game all over again, with the rush of adrenalin in his veins, and the joy of the game driving his body.

For some reason he knew it would be a good game.

And he was right.

Louis made the first goal of the game. Well, it was no news, Louis happened to be a decent (great, in fact) player. But what struck him the most was the feeling after the goal. Instead of feeling like he had just done his job and that's it, he felt pure joy. He felt the success, he felt the excitement; he felt like the 10-year-old himself.

And when Liam (Louis had settled everything with him and Zayn in the morning, before the game) was the first one to come to hug him as he celebrated his goal, Louis happened to glance at the audience that was cheering and yelling. And somehow, out of the whole crowd, his eyes managed to spot a familiar mop of curls, bouncing up and down, fists in the air, shouting with a ridiculously wide smile on his face - a smile Louis was able to see and recognize despite the space between them.

And a second later the moment was gone when the rest of Louis' teammates reached them, forming a big group around Louis. But the praises from his teammates were not nearly as rewarding as the tiny moment he had seen Harry cheering for him.

 

*** 

 

"Damn Louis, you were amazing!"

Louis felt the warmth inside him, but he tried to play it cool. As he was. Completely cool and calm. Like, _completely_.

"Well, I was decent, I guess."

"No, seriously Lou!" Harry smiled, spreading his arms like trying to describe something he couldn't put into words. "You never told me you are _that_ good! I figured you were good, but I mean, _damn_."

"You're making me blush, Styles," Louis tried, but Harry's excitement was so genuine Louis couldn't hide his smile.

They were in a coffee shop near Louis' university. Louis had basically bailed the rest of the team soon after the game, saying he had _some stuff to do_. That _some stuff_ had nothing to do with a text from Harry, asking whether Louis had plans after the game or not.

"Really though, Lou, it was nice to see you with your team. I mean, after all, you've seen me with my books, but I hadn't seen you with your team."

Louis laughed. "Books are your pals, huh?"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Pretty much."

But Louis eyes were sharp and experienced. Maybe it took a liar to know one, but Louis surely knew when people were hiding something.

"Harry?" he asked carefully.

"Yeah?"

"How long have you lived in London again?"

Harry glanced at Louis. "About three months now. Why?"

"Just." Louis kept a pause, arranging his words, trying to form a sentence that didn't sound wrong or offending. "I mean, do you really now people around here? Like..."

"...do I have friends?" Harry finished quietly.

Louis swallowed. "I didn't, you know, mean to-"

Harry shrugged, but the smile on his face was the first fake smile Louis had seen on those plumb lips. And Louis knew a fake smile when he saw one. "It's okay, Louis, I know. And to answer your question, no, I don't have friends. I mean," Harry shrugged again, "I know a few people here, but friends? Not really."

Louis looked at Harry, who was now staring out of the window. It gave Louis a chance to admire the whole picture. The cup of steaming mocha in Harry's huge hands, the curls that were casually on a quiff for once, the warm and soft lighting around the boy in the shop that created a contrast between the autumn weather outside the window; a little dark and gloomy, a couple of raindrops slowly streaming down the window.

Louis let his gaze drop to the latte he was holding. He wasn't exactly sure whether to break the silence or not, and if yes, he didn't know what to say.

"Sorry, I just."

"No, no reason to apologize, Louis," Harry mumbled. Louis' turned his eyes back to Harry, to see the warm smile back on Harry's face; the smile that reached his green eyes, too. "I mean, I am a bit of a loner, I guess. But it's okay because I have books. And now I have you."

Louis stared at Harry, at the green eyes, and suddenly it was a little too much. "Yeah, I, uhm, yeah."

Why was he so goddamn clumsy with his words when it came to Harry?

Louis dared to take a little peek at Harry, but the little michevious smirk dancing on Harry's lips was, again, too much.

"I, um, really-"

But then Louis was saved by his phone that started ringing. Or as it turned out, "saved" was probably a wrong term as he dug is phone out and read the name on the screen.

Eleanor.

He stared at the screen for a while before he remembered that Harry was watching him.

"Sorry, I have to- I have to take this," Louis murmured, standing up.

He had been ignoring Eleanor for days, and now definitely wasn't the best time to start paying attention on her existence, but for some reason Louis felt like he had to.

"Um, hi, El."

"Louis."

Louis swallowed, finding his way to the door and to the street outside the shop. The silence on the line felt so heavy, _so_ heavy Louis wasn't sure if he would have been able to cut through it with his voice.

"Louis... what is going on. Please, just."

Louis bit his bottom lip, his eyes wandering to the window of the coffee shop. He saw Harry's profile; the sharp jaw line, the plumb lips that were currently sipping mocha, straight, beautifully shaped nose, thick eyebrows and the curly locks of hair on his neck. He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, El, I've been busy. I know, sounds like an excuse," Louis closed his eyes, the guilt burning his throat, "but it's not. I've barely had time to breathe."

"Busy, huh? Where are you now? I saw Liam, said you aren't even celebrating with your team because you had something else to do."

"I'm..." Louis' eyes fluttered open, finding Harry's profile again, "I'm shopping. Liam's birthday present. Couldn't really tell him what I'm doing, could I?"

Louis didn't even know what he was hiding. He was just seeing his friend, right? Having a cup of coffee with his new mate?

"Oh. You could've told that, I could've come with you..."

Eleanor still sounded pretty unsure, but somehow Louis had gotten back his calmness and confidence as a high-class liar. The sight of Harry made him feel calmer; it was ironic, considering that when Louis actually _was_ with Harry, he felt everything but calm.

"No, sorry, I'm buying, you know - boy stuff. Probably better for you that you're not here."

It probably sounded like Louis was buying porn. Louis didn't really care.

"Oh, I... see," Eleanor said, and Louis was pretty sure that there was something in her voice that told him that he had was almost convinced her.

"Yeah. I'm so sorry, honestly babe."

"Okay... okay. Well, I think... talk to you later?" Eleanor offered weakly, and Louis agreed, told her that he had to go and ended the call.

Somehow, he had gotten out with it, once again. It was a fucking miracle; but, Louis didn't complain.

"Who was it?" Harry asked as Louis finally managed his way back to the shop, sitting back onto his chair.

"Oh, it was... my friend. Stan."

"Is he a nice dude?" Harry grinned, his eyes being so gullible it hurt Louis' heart.

"Yeah," Louis shrugged. "Sometimes he's a dick, but most of the time he's cool. And he has some great parties."

"Yeah?" Harry asked; there was something in his eyes Louis really couldn't put a name on. Excitement, curiosity, almost admiration; and it hit Louis' soft spot. Which provoked Louis' brain to come up with an idea. A stupid, reckless, ridiculous, bad, _stupid_ idea.

"Yeah. Actually, he will have one in two weeks, on Friday... I mean, if you have nothing to do on that Friday, you could join the party, too..?"

"Really?" Harry's eyes lit up into shining emeralds, and Louis couldn't help smiling at the view.

"Yeah, really, of course."

"That would be like, my first party in London," Harry grinned. "I had some in Cheshire, but honestly, they were so lame. Usually, anyway - I mean, a few times they were kinda sick, once..."

And Harry told about the party; how everyone had been so drunk, and people had been making out, and according to the noises Harry had heard some people had been doing more than just _making out_ , and then the police had arrived. And Louis laughed as he imagined a 16-year-old Harry in a party that was interrupted by cops; Louis was sure Harry had been the politest kid of them all, volunteering to show the police everything they needed to know.

"...and when they found weed on someone, they threw us out, and called out parents. Honestly, it was so embarrassing when my mum came there and took me home! She knew I was at the party though, and she was cool with it, but you know. A car ride with your parent when you're drunk; it's awkward. Like, awkward multiplied by 10."

Louis hummed, still a picture of overpolite, drunk Harry in his head.

"But she mostly just laughed at me, so. It was okay. She's great, you know?"

Louis smiled. He could see the adoration in Harry's eyes, the love Harry had for his mum. Louis felt a little pain in his chest, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been; maybe it was just something about Harry that numbed the pain.

"What about you? Any drunk stories?"

Louis laughed. "Plenty. Too much for your young ears."

"Young ears? C'mon Louis, it's only two years," Harry complained, but had a smile on his face anyway. "Well, any embarrassing drunk stories that include your parents?"

Suddenly the pain in Louis' chest was stronger, and apparently Harry saw that - the curly-haired boy looked worried all of a sudden. But Louis didn't really see that; the voices in his head were starting to get louder again, whispering the sentences Louis had heard so many times. _I always knew that, there was something wrong with you, I always knew_.

"Sorry, I- you don't have to tell, I was just, asking-"

"It's just that, well, my parents... some other time, maybe," Louis choked out, staring at something he didn't even see since he was too lost in his head. Too lost in the voices that were whispering into his ear.

"Yeah, yeah, of course Lou," Harry rushed to say. Louis felt the heavy weight on his chest, it was there like it had never been gone, and Louis felt like he couldn't breathe. In fact, he literally couldn't breathe; his inhales and exhales hitching slightly.

But Harry saw that. And, for Louis' suprise and relief, he didn't do what most people would have. He didn't ask what was wrong, he didn't ask " _are you okay_ ", he didn't ask if there was something he could do. Instead, he did exactly what Louis would have wanted him to do. He found a distraction.

"Stan's party, though. Where does he live? Tell me about his parties, so I know what to expect."

And gratefully Louis started memorizing the times he had been so drunk he barely remembered his own name, and Harry asked just the right questions, listened to Louis carefully. After a while it got better; even so good that Louis didn't even realize how he started to feel like he could breathe again. He just embraced the memories that were pretty fucked up, thanks to the alcohol that had been involved, but clear enough to for Louis to get absorbed in them.

After an hour they had left the coffee shop. They were walking on the streets, still memorizing their pasts. Harry was just describing the view of Paris, the only foreign country that Harry had been to ("Like, Eiffel tower is so pretty during night, but during day it's just an ugly piece of iron"), but Louis started to feel the weight of his football equipment on his shoulder. The bag was still with him since he hadn't even visited home after the game.

"Hey, would you mind if we took these," he pointed the bag hanging on his shoulder, "home? I mean, my flat is like two blocks away, and this thing is getting heavy..."

"Sure," Harry answered immediately, "sorry, I didn't even realize."

Louis rolled his eyes. "It's not your job to notice whether my bag is too heavy or not, Styles."

"Hey, sorry for trying to be polite!"

"Stop apologizing, dumbass," Louis teased. He was rewarded with a punch of Harry's elbow, right to the space under Louis' ribs.

"Ouch, that fucking hurt!"

"Yeah, well, you're the one who told me to stop apologizing," Harry grinned. "And it did  _not_ hurt, don't be such a girl."

"Geez, who's the girl here, Harry? Besides, what's wrong with girls, I bet they would take a hit better than you would."

Harry laughed, showing his deep dimples. "You're probably right. I mean, you should meet my sister; she’d beat me like 6-0 in a fist fight. Never really understood when they say someone 'hits like a girl', some girls are pretty badass."

Louis grinned. "Yeah, they are."

They kept walking in silence, only the voices of traffic and wind surrounding them. But there was something Louis - or more accurately, Louis' subconscious - wanted to know. Louis had a question on his tongue, but for some reason he couldn't get it out; it was stuck, and Louis didn't even quite know why. It took him a minute, maybe two, to speak up.

"So, Harry... speaking of girls... is there any chick in your life? I mean, a guy like you, there must be someone? Here, or in Cheshire..."

What Louis did not except was Harry bursting out a bit of laughter.

"A girl? No, no girls. Not here, not in Cheshire," Harry said in a voice that was a bit too amused, the tone matching to the grin on his face. Louis' subconscious tried to tell something to Louis, something about Harry's reaction; but Louis ignored it. He pretended he had no idea what the reason for Harry's amusement could be. But just as Louis was about to ask about the humoured tone, Harry glanced at Louis, the grin deepening even more. 

"What about you, Louis? Any _chick_ in your life?"

Louis opened his mouth.

_Yeah. My girlfriend, Eleanor. She's pretty cool, we have been dating for two years. She's smart, and well, can't lie, she's hot too. I'm glad to have her._

Except, Louis didn't say that out loud. That was what was _supposed_ to come out of Louis' mouth.

"I, um, it's-" Louis shuddered, and then he noticed they had finally in front of Liam and his flat and, "oh, look, we are here. Wait, I need to find my keys-"

_Absolutely-not-smooth-at-all._

But Harry just quirked his brows a little as Louis dropped his bag and kneeled next to it to find his keys. The real reason for kneeling weren't the keys, though - Louis just wanted to hide his embarrassed face. What the fuck was he doing, anyway? He had a chick in his life. He had an actual fucking _girlfriend_. But during his mind was mocking him about it, Louis just pretended he was trying to find his goddamn keys.

Except he didn't have them, he found out after a good minute of digging.

"Well, apparently I don't have my keys, but we have a spare one," Louis mumbled, glancing at Harry. It wasn't the first time Louis had forgotten his keys - after the third time sitting on the steps, drunk thanks to a bar night, Liam still away so he couldn't open the door either, Louis had decided that something needed to be done - and he had hidden the spare key to a flowerpot next to the steps.

"And look what we have here," Louis said to Harry, showing the key after digging it out.

"Clever."

Louis grinned, "I am."

He threw the bag inside and grabbed his keys without even putting the lights on. Liam would probably comment on the bag in the middle of hallway, but Louis didn't really care. He would deal with that later. As Louis walked out of the flat he was sure to hide the spare key back to the pot for the next time he would forget the keys.

Then he turned to look for Harry.

It had started to get dark, and the rainy clouds were pulling out. There was a bit of dark navy sky with shining stars to be seen, and the wet tarmac was shining too, creating a beautiful view along with some street lights. Louis had always loved a nice city scene, especially when it was dark. And about twenty feet away, under one of the street lights, there was Harry.

Before Louis could censor his thoughts, they were there.

It was so beautiful. The autumn evening, darkness, shining lights, voices of the city, and _Harry_. Harry, staring at the sky in his big, grey sweater, and ridiculously worn out, black skinny jeans, and stupid, _stupid_ brown boots, and.

It was beautiful.

_Harry_ was beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this chapter was so lame it was basically a filler i needed to write to set up the next chapter im soRRy if ur bored to death rn but next chapter is when the party begins pls like literally party beGINS oh oh oh the things i have in mind for you cant wait 
> 
> and i would really appreciate kudos and comments like honestly it keeps me going it inspires me to write more and better and just pleasE do it tell me what you think thank u !!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There was one secret, too. When no one was around and Harry was fast asleep, Louis might have stroked Harry's cheek a little.
> 
> But as said, it was a secret. It was a secret Louis kept even from himself, because he had no intentions to admit it to anyone. Ever. He didn't want to provoke the hidden part of his mind. But there was still a fading memory deep in his mind that was still feeling the softness of Harry’s pale skin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now now now lets get this party started. includes drinking and partying and drunk larry and hey whats better than that thats right nothing absolutely nothing

Two weeks were gone before Louis had even time to blink.

What Louis spent that time on was a mystery even to Louis himself. He didn't really have any idea what he had done during that time. He only had a few clear memories; but mostly he had been so busy doing everything he didn't really have time to think about anything. Poetic, wasn't he.

The first week had passed with practicing and studying. Louis was near failing all of his classes - thanks to the time he had spent with the curly haired, nameless boy in the library. And practices - after the win on Saturday (the game had probably been Louis’ best game in years, and he tried to ignore the connection between his sudden rush of talent and the curly haired boyin the audience) their coach had gotten excited and added three extra practices to the week. Which was quite a lot, considering they originally had already had four practices per week.

The first week had gone with the school and football duties; the second had gone with his friends.

Liam had left to Spain on Tuesday morning. That had basically meant panic packing on Monday night - Liam was usually very organized, but packing wasn't really his piece of cake - and Louis had helped, as the good friend he was (and he really had some things to make up to Liam, truth to be told). Regardless of their big effort to pack everything in time, Louis had already noticed some things Liam had forgotten. For example, Liam’s Batman toothbrush (the guy and his obsession with Batman merchandise, Louis swore to God) was still in their bathroom. Louis hoped Liam remembered to buy a new one from Spain.

Unfortunately, the voices in his head had been there too. Almost every day. Some days were better, some were worse, but either way Louis did his best to suffocate them. Too bad he had never really been excellent at shutting them down; most of the time he just had to distract himself with his usual escapes. The voices were worst during the days he had to think about Eleanor a lot; and he tried to ignore the connection, but it was there and he knew it.

The worst day had been when he had actually talked with Eleanor in person. They had seen in the university's cafeteria, and it had been so awkward Louis didn't even want to think about it. Somehow that managed to be only time Louis had seen Eleanor, and as bad as he should have felt about that, he really didn’t. He was just relieved. He didn't know how long he could manage to continue it, but he procrastinated the solution that he knew he would have to come up with, eventually.

And yet, regardless of the fact Louis had had the busiest two weeks, what was the clearest memory in Louis' mind was a simple, lazy Sunday afternoon.

He had been so tired that day. He had waken up at 10 AM - way too early if you asked from Louis - and he hadn't been up to anything else but lazing around. Despite that he had gotten up, and after a quick shower he had gone out. He had enjoyed the autumn morning and the fresh air, and the walk to the library that usually took him only about 10 minutes took now 35, as he went all the possible detours and walked slower than an old lady who actually passed him with her walker.

Harry had been there already when Louis arrived. But instead of reading, like usually, Harry had been curled up into a position that looked everything but comfy, and it was the first time ever Louis had seen Harry wearing sweats. It had also been the first time Louis had seen Harry sleeping, because the boy was fast asleep with his head tucked deep into a green beanie.

Louis didn't admit that he had watched Harry sleeping for a while, because that would have been weird. And creepy.

But after he had waken Harry up, and joked about Harry's snores (Harry hadn't snored, though), they had had the most relaxing day Louis could remember. They hadn't really talked; they had just _been_. In a silence that was so, so comfortable. They both had just read; even Louis, who normally didn't read at all. And sometimes, when Louis' wasn't really interested in the plot of the book, he had felt something on him. That something had been green and observing.

But Louis didn't let Harry's gaze bother him. Usually he didn't like when people were watching him, but it was okay with Harry. Louis didn't feel threatened, as ridiculous as it might have sounded.

The best part, though, was yet to be told. _Louis_ didn't admit that it was the best part, but his body and mind betrayed him. Not to mention his subconscious that kept reminding Louis about it.

After a while of reading Harry had suddenly started yawning furiously, again and again. Louis had teased him about it ("Oh, c'mon Harold, I can't be _that_ boring"), but after all Harry had simply said he was tired because of his roommate who had had friends over the previous night. And when Harry's head had started to sway, he had mumbled something about "needing to take a nap".

Somehow Harry had ended up falling asleep on Louis' shoulder.

In his sleep Harry had nudged deeper into Louis' side, his body feeling warm and defined against Louis. Louis hadn’t really minded, because it was cold in the library, and Harry warmed him up. Louis thought that it was a perfect excuse to nestle himself against Harry while Harry’s calm breath was warming Louis’ collarbone.

There was one secret, too. When no one was around and Harry was fast asleep, Louis might have stroked Harry's cheek a little.

But as said, it was a secret. It was a secret Louis kept even from himself, because he had no intentions to admit it to anyone. Ever. He didn't want to provoke the hidden part of his mind. But there was still a fading memory deep in his mind that was still feeling the softness of Harry’s pale skin.

However, the two weeks had passed and it was Friday now, and Louis had just texted Harry to let him know Stan's address. Louis had questioned the stupid idea of inviting Harry to the party, but there was no going back. He literally couldn’t come up with an excuse to take back the invitation; and even if he could have, he tried to convince himself that there was no reason to. Even though his subconscious told him otherwise.

Louis would get absolutely fucked on alcohol and everything would be alright.

As much as that was what his mind tried to tell so, he knew he would be fucked in another meaning of the word as Harry answered to his text.

"See u there, Lou :D xx"

 

***

 

"Who are you texting, Louis? C'mon man, stop with the fucking phone thing, you're ignoring us," Zayn complained.

The three of them - Louis, Zayn and Niall - were already at Stan's, sitting on a few armchairs that were nicely in a circle in Stan’s living room. There was starting to be quite a lot of people, as Louis had assumed; Stan was never satisfied with a normal uni party. Instead of telling a few people about it Stan literally invited so many people the house couldn't usually fit them all, which led into a yard full of people, too.

"Fine... I put it away, okay," Louis said, his words already slurring a little. _Damn it, alcohol_ , he thought. The night hadn't even started yet, and there he was, already feeling the liquid he had consumed.

Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about committing his plan - to get drunker than he had been in ages. Maybe drunker that he had _ever_ been.

"Is it Eleanor?" Niall grinned. Louis sighed in frustration - the girl wasn't at the party, as Niall very well knew, but that didn't mean Louis would be texting her all the time. In fact, Louis wouldn't be texting her at all, if everything would go well enough.

"No."

"Then who is it, Louis, don't be fucking shy about it," Zayn prompted, and damn, he was persistent. Louis was about to answer with something extremely sarcastic, but then he reminded himself about the fact Zayn wasn’t the nicest people to fight with when he was drunk. Therefore, he just went with the truth.

"It's Harry, okay?"

Niall and Zayn shared a confused look. The confusion in their eyes were different, though; where Niall was just surprised, Zayn was more of a “are you fucking kidding me” kind of confused.

"Yeah, I actually- I actually asked Harry to join the party, too. He should be here any minute-" Louis mumbled, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable with the situation.

Zayn blew out a perfect ring of smoke - Louis still didn't quite know how Zayn did that - and frowned. "Harry?"

Louis gave Zayn a warning glare. It was not a time to bring out the conversation they had had a couple of weeks ago. Louis hadn’t really mentioned Harry after that, and he hadn’t done it for a reason. "Yeah, Harry."

"Who was he again?" Niall asked, taking a sip from a bottle in his hand. Bless that clueless idiot, Louis thought.

" _Friend_ ," Louis said, turning the attention to the bottle Niall was holding. "Is that vodka? Pass it..."

"Louis, it's only like, 9 PM, and you're already drinking pure vodka?"

"Hey, Niall's drinking pure vodka-"

"But I'm Irish," Niall said, like it was the simplest excuse in the whole world.

"Yeah, Lou, Niall could empty two bottles of those and he would be as drunk as you after just smelling a beer. Irishmen and their genes," Zayn shrugged, and Louis swore he hated them both.

"You're one to speak, Zayn, you get drunk easily as fu-"

But Louis was interrupted by a raspy voice that he would have recognized even in his sleep. Well, definitely in his sleep - Louis might have dreamed about Harry. Once. Or twice. ( _Eleven times_.)

"Louis?"

And maybe Louis had taken a little too much already, because when he spun around to see Harry, his head felt dizzy all of a sudden. Maybe it was the alcohol.

Or maybe it was just Harry.

The curly-haired boy was wearing plaid shirt that had its top unbuttoned, and the same old skinny jeans, and a pair of white Converse, and a long cross necklace, and it was all so simple, but _holy shit_ it was effective.

And then Louis realized he hadn't said anything yet.

"Harry! Yeah, guys, this is Harry. And Harry," Louis glanced at the other boys, "Zayn and Niall."

Zayn and Niall waved their hands, but Louis was especially careful to observe Zayn's reaction (after all, Louis had kind of told Zayn he might have liked Harry). Maybe it was the alcohol, but Zayn actually seemed to be stunned by Harry; his brown eyes lingered on Harry's face for a little too long.

Louis couldn't blame him, really.

"Yeah, I'm Harry," Harry repeated, breaking the silence with a polite smile on his face. "Louis has told about you both."

"I would ask whether they're good or bad things, but I don't know if there's anything good to tell," Niall said in an accent that was even thicker than normally now that he had been drinking. Louis wondered if Harry understood anything; it had taken Louis a while to get used to the Irish language. Yes, Louis was pretty sure Irish was its very own language.

Harry laughed. "No, actually, there have been some good things too, along with the bad ones. A few."

Niall grinned; Louis was pretty sure Niall was some kind of a sun that lit up the room because it was impossible to have a gloomy mood in a room that Niall was in. It was something about the Irish lad that made everyone smile. "So who's Harry, then? I haven't heard that much about you."

"Probably because we really haven't seen Louis after they met," Zayn mumbled so quietly only Louis heard it properly, and, _what the fuck was his problem_? If a glare could have killed, Louis' gaze would have probably murdered Zayn on the spot.

"Well, Harry is a boring guy who loves reading. And good parties," Harry said, offering his hand.

“Niall, loves beer and Derby,” Niall introduced himself. Louis couldn’t help rolling his eyes; at least he was the reason two of the dumbest dumbs on Earth had finally met each other.

“Derby? Yeah, Derby is pretty good,” Harry smiled, even though Louis was pretty sure he said it just to please Niall. Louis was completely okay with that, though.

Niall glanced at Louis, "I really like this dude."

 _You and me both_ , Louis thought, and the smile he gave at Harry was a little too warm.

 

***

 

Louis wasn't sure how he had ended up dancing with Harry.

After midnight there had been a drinking game and laughing and dares and Niall had gotten slapped by some girl and Zayn had called Perrie to join the party and then there had been another drinking game and then some bitc- _girl_ had asked Harry to dance with her and Louis didn't like that and, well.

One of Louis' favourite dance songs had been on, anyway.

So somehow the two of them had found their way to the middle of the crowd of dancing, drunk people. The girls were acting slutty, grinding and hiking up their skirts and pulling down their shirts, and the guys were even worse, pulling off the whole Robin-Thicke-and-blurred-lines scene.

Actually, Louis was pretty sure they were in a video that was a mixture of Blurred Lines and We Can't Stop.

But Louis didn't really mind. He loved the music and the heat and the dancing and the sweat and the darkness and the flashing lights and the alcohol and Har-

_No._

Louis took a deep breath and closed his eyes, giving in to the beating bass. He knew he had the dancing in his blood, it was a guilty pleasure of his, and he enjoyed nothing more than finding himself lost in the music, his body finding a language of its own. It wasn't really something Louis had control over; he just let his body move.

Not that he could have concentrated on his moves anyway, though, because there was something that all of his focus was on.

Harry was so close, his tall, _like so so tall_ , body moving against Louis, and maybe it wasn't in a platonic way, but Louis couldn't bring himself to care, because. It felt good. It felt right. And their bodies just fit, and maybe it was just the music, and maybe it was just the alcohol, and maybe it was just the heat, and maybe it was just the people dancing around them, but the adrenalin was rushing in his veins, and the next thing he knew was that he pressed his back against Harry's front, and Harry's body felt so welcoming, and.

Louis loved this song.

"Harry... more... to drink... kitchen..."

Louis' words were a slur, but apparently Harry understood, because the big body was moving forward, guiding Louis, and Louis giggled, because being manhandled was new for him, but maybe he didn't mind.

Harry was breathing to his neck, whispering something Louis couldn't hear; but it was probably a knock knock joke, and that made Louis giggle even more, because they were in a room full of people, and it was such a Harry thing to do to come up with knock knock jokes when there was no closed doors anywhere near.

Harry was funny. Louis liked Harry.

So Louis told him. He told Harry was funny, and knock knock jokes were dumb, but funny, because it was Harry, and Harry was funny. And it probably made more sense in Louis' head, and Harry probably didn't even hear it, but Louis had said it, and the music was too loud anyway, so it was okay.

There were a few people in kitchen. Louis didn't really pay attention, because he needed more to drink and Harry was so _close_ , and others were irrelevant.

Louis found his way to the counter that was full of empty bottles and plastic cups. The music wasn't as loud in the kitchen, especially when the last people left the room and closed the door behind them; it was still loud though, the bass making the room tremble slightly. The room was completely dark, and for a moment Louis' eyes had to get used to the difference after the party lights in the other rooms.

Louis walked to the counter, while Harry still stood in the middle of the room, gazing around like a child in a fucking Disneyland. Louis laughed at the thought, but no one paid attention to it. Then Louis dimly realized that it was because there was no one who could have paid attention; the last people had left the kitchen, and they were, in fact, alone.

"Harry, something to drink?" Louis yelled over the music, glancing at Harry over his shoulder. Harry walked closer, so he didn't have to shout; and Louis couldn't tear his eyes off the way Harry walked. It was more confident than usually (a little clumsy, still, thanks to the alcohol - and well, Harry happened to be a little clumsy in other occasions, too), and there was something mesmerizing about it; something that made Louis feel even more intoxicated than he already was.

"Tequila shots," Harry mumbled, and Louis looked at him, and his eyes were glimmering with something Louis couldn't put a name on; but maybe it was just the thirst. For alcohol, of course - maybe it was the tequila shots. But Harry was looking at Louis, and Louis didn't have tequila. Louis frowned. Maybe Harry thought he had tequila. Louis didn’t really know why Harry would have thought that, but it was the only explanation his drunk mind found. The only explanation his drunk mind _accepted_ , anyway.

"Louis..." Harry whispered, stepping closer to Louis, and. It was definitely not tequila.

"Yeah, um, tequila, um," Louis mumbled, suddenly intimidated, and sheepish, quickly turning around. He felt something burning in his insides, and it was not alcohol, and he didn't know how to control it. Therefore he just landed his hands on the table, looking for balance, and maybe for another bottle of tequila. Because yeah - tequila. Just tequila. Harry needed tequila. And so did Louis.

And for his fortune, there was one bottle that was half full - Louis' answer to half full or half empty was always half full, especially when it came to alcohol, because some alcohol was better than no alcohol. For Louis it made perfectly sense, and he decided he should explain it to Harry. The theory of half full of half empty was important, after all. It was like the question about a chicken and an egg. Louis frowned – his mind was rambling. But he was pretty sure the egg was first.

He filled two used shot glasses - hopefully there was nothing weird in them, Louis thought absentmindedly, without really worrying about it - and turned around.

And fuck. Harry was so _close_. Suddenly the question about the chicken and the egg didn’t really matter anymore.

"Bo- bottoms up, I guess," Louis breathed, and he definitely wasn't staring at Harry, and Harry's lips, and-

Louis emptied the glass with one, big _gulp_. The liquid burned his throat, and Louis secretly hoped that he would pass out soon.

To contribute his secret wish, he filled the glass right after he managed to choke down the first one. It took only a few seconds until he lifted the glass onto his lips again, forcing himself to swallow all of it at once.

Meanwhile, Harry was coughing a little – Louis wasn’t only one with the problems with the burn, it seemed – but either way, Harry encouraged Louis to fill his glass too. Louis watched in fascination how Harry threw his head back, consuming another portion of the golden liquid, hid jaw so defined, and his beautiful green eyes closed, his Adam’s apple bopping.

After Harry finished the drink, with a tiny wince, Louis took the glass out of Harry's hand. Harry didn't really react to it, but maybe he was just too drunk to do so. Maybe Louis was, too. He turned around again, to put the glasses on the table; and just in case, he took a big sip straight from the bottle, and turned around, and.

Bumped to Harry.

Harry was so close now, their bodies were nearly touching, and Harry's eyes were staring straight into Louis', and there was no question about it. It was not alcohol Harry's eyes were lusting for. And for a moment Louis wondered if he was mirroring that gaze, if Harry was seeing the same thing in Louis' eyes that Louis saw in Harry's.

And then Harry leaned closer.

"Louis..."

Harry's whisper smelled like tequila, it smelled like lust, and it smelled like _Harry_.

And Louis thought that maybe he was staring at Harry's lips, maybe he couldn't tear his eyes off them, he thought that maybe he answered to Harry's whisper by whispering Harry's name, in a voice that was needy, and drunk, and lustful, and maybe he was part of the reason, but he thought that as long as it was just a _maybe_ , it wasn't real, and he could refuse it.

But what didn't have _maybe_ in it was how Harry's lips pressed against Louis', how they were so soft, like feathers, and how Louis parted his lips, and how Harry tasted like alcohol, and lust, and _Harry_ , and HarryHarryHarryHarry, everything was Harry, and Harry leaned closer, and Louis felt his body, his heating muscles, and Harry's tongue was so _good_ , so good exploring Louis' mouth, and Louis' tongue joined to the dance, shyly tasting Harry, and Louis loved how their tongues matched, and how everything was so gentle, yet so hot, so steamy, so drunk, and so _Harry_ , and Louis couldn't, he couldn't-

"What the _fuck_ , I have a fucking _girlfriend,_ what the _fuck_ Harry..."

And then Louis was pushing Harry away, his mind slowly clearing up, coming to its sense, and he wanted to throw up-

"Louis, what th-"

But it was too much, and Louis' head was screaming, or maybe it was the alcohol, or his thoughts, or Louis himself, and Louis needed to get away, but Harry was getting closer again-

"Louis are you oka- Lou.."

And then his thoughts were screaming so loud, and the voices in his head became unbearable, and Louis couldn't take it-

"I'm not a _fucking_ fag!"

And then it was quiet.

The world stopped, and everything was so, so quiet.

The music was still there, and so were the voices of people partying, but Louis couldn't hear them.

He heard nothing.

He felt nothing.

He smelled nothing.

But he saw. And oh, the things he would have done so he would have gotten rid of that sense, the things he would have done to have any other sense but sight; but he saw. He saw every detail, his sight suddenly so clear and sharp, with no distractions like alcohol.

He saw the confusion and surprise in the green eyes, that soon turned into hurt. He saw the pain that slowly sneaked in, the embarrassment, the shock, the disbelief. He saw the shaky breath that was taken by the plumb, pink lips, the lips Louis now knew where so, so soft, and so gentle.  

And his mind was telling him to fix it. To take it back, to rush towards Harry and make it better. To apologize and beg for forgiveness and make it up. To do _anything_.

But all he did was nothing.

And Harry was backing out, the hurt starting to turn into anger and disbelief into disgust.

" _A fucking fag._ "

"Harry, no, I-"

Harry let out a cold laugh, with no emotion or humour in it. "Didn't really expect that from _you_."

And Louis’ mouth opened, but no words came out; and before Louis could answer, or react, Harry was rushing out of the door, leaving shaking and trembling Louis alone to the kitchen.

Alone and crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so very sorry.
> 
> (id really appreciate comments and kudos bc they literally keep me going!! thank u loves)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call him a romantic, but for Harry it felt like he had known Louis for his whole life. Or actually, it felt like Harry had known Louis even before they had met, like their souls had been connected to each other before they had even existed. It was a cliché, but Harry thought it was a nice cliché. And clichés were clichés for a reason.
> 
> Maybe Harry should write a song about clichés. Or about meeting Louis. (Well, he already had written the latter. He was such a sap.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello im sorry this has taken some time but ive been busy having a shit life so yea. anyways i hope this chapter clears some things up (it will probably just confuse you more, but.)

_"I think I'm going on a date with him!"  
_

_"Wait, what did you say?"_

_"A... date. Like in movies and TV shows."  
_

_"I thought you were going to watch a movie. As friends."  
_

_"He said... I mean he said we would go on a date, like it would be a real date..."_

_"You don't know what you're talking about. You're fucking 13."_

_"But-"_

"No buts _."_

 _"But I... I_ _like him."_

_"He's your friend. Of course you like him, you stupid kid."  
_

_"I mean... I_ like _him.."_

_"Do you mean- are you trying to say you like boys?"_

_"I- I think s-so..."_

_"What the fuck? I mean - I thought you were better than this? I thought I taught you differently?"_

_"I..."_

_"I always knew that there was something wrong with you - but this? Louis, seriously? What the fuck have you become?"_

_"I-I'm so s-sorry..."_

_"Stop fucking crying, you're like a fucking girl. Maybe you_ are _a fucking fag, after all. Go to your room. You won't be going anywhere tomorrow."  
_

 

***

 

Harry didn't really know what love was.

He knew he didn't know it. He had never been in love, and he had thought he wouldn't fall in love in years. He was only 17, after all, and he knew he had years ahead of him to learn everything about love, if it was even possible to ever learn  _everything_. But he had years to learn what love was and how to love.

But in a situation he was in, with no better knowledge, he knew how he _would_ have described love.

It was the way he felt like when he looked into the blue eyes that were so bright yet had some shadows in it, shadows that he would have wanted to explore and lighten up. It was the way he laughed at everything that came out from a mouth that had thin yet so wonderful lips, and a high yet somehow so deep and unique voice. It was the way his heart fluttered when that voice complimented him somehow, or even said something nice that was aimed at Harry.

It wasn't love, but it was the closest thing Harry had ever felt.

But now, as Harry was lying on an ugly couch (he wished his roommate would have had a better sense of decoration, but apparently the cheapest furniture did the thing), he didn't really feel that thing. That closest-to-love-experience.

He mostly felt hurt.

The first two days had been the worst. Harry had thought if he had done something wrong; if there was a reason for Louis to get upset. But after those two days Harry had decided that he couldn't blame himself, and after that the pain, that had covered his insides like a tree, had become only a pit in his stomach. It was hell of a pit, though - strong and consuming, taking all of Harry's attention. It was a pit that made Harry feel a little sick and a lot hurt.

What hurt him weren't Louis' _words_ , though. He had heard the word "fag" so many times he had sort of gotten immune to it; it was the word that the angry people with no sense of understanding used to describe Harry. Harry didn't really mind, he just wished that the people who used the term as an insult would have gotten rid of the anger they apprently had in them. Harry felt sorry for them, really.

What hurt him was the person who had said it. Never had a person, who was important to Harry and who Harry knew, insulted him in that way. Especially not when Harry was at his most vulnerable state, revealing the way he felt with an action that had taken so much courage from him to do. Harry had been caught off guard, the situation and Louis' words had come as a complete surprise, and Harry didn't really know how to deal with it. He didn't know how he should have reacted to that.

The weirdest part was that Harry was positive Louis had reflected the emotion in Harry's drunk voice and his intoxicated eyes; Harry was positive Louis had answered to the kiss.

Harry wasn't stupid. He considered himself pretty intelligent, even - he would have gone to university if he didn't find himself most comfortable, mosthome and most  _himself_ when he was singing or reading. Harry was a singer, after all, he did some gigs in the bar that was owned by his friend Nick. Nick was that kind of guy you either hated with passion or loved with passion, there was no in between. Sarcasm and humour - humour that was rude, even - were his trademarks, and many people didn’t like that. Harry knew a lot of people who refused to go to Nick’s bar just for that reason. There was no denying that sometimes Harry understood why some people didn’t really like Nick, but Harry thought Nick was fun to be with and sometimes he was even nice to Harry. Despite everything, if you were close to the lanky barkeeper, you could rely on him, and Harry appreciated that in a person.

Harry loved singing, and he was thankful he could do it for his living - if the puny amount of money he got from singing was considered as “living”, since he barely lived with it. The feeling on the stage was something Harry couldn’t compare to anything else. He wrote songs, too, but nobody really knew about that. It was more of a hobby, and Harry didn't believe it would be worth a career, but it was his dream. He dreamed of being a singer-songwriter. Nothing big, nothing too fancy like a worldwide known pop star, but a singer-songwriter anyway. That kind of artist who wasn't well known but still highly appreciated, singing in little arenas maybe, or some sort of indie music events.

Harry considered himself very indie.

But Harry wasn't stupid, and something about Louis didn't really feel right. That was why, after three days since the party, Harry wasn't that mad at Louis anymore. He was hurt, though, and he hadn't forgiven. But he wasn't _mad_ , because he knew Louis wasn't a person to judge gays. Which was something Harry considered himself to be. Harry was pretty sure he had made it obvious; he really didn't hide the fact he was rather interested in pretty boys than pretty girls. Harry had met countless amount of homophobic people in his life, which had during years taught him to recognize one when he met one. Those people tended to stay away from Harry because there was nothing about him that was exactly _straight_. Harry knew many people didn't like using sexual orientation as an adjective, but Harry wouldn't have minded being the definition of the adjective "gay". He was one, after all. He was okay with it, better than okay actually, even though there were people who didn't like it. It wasn't Harry's problem to deal with them. He just felt sorry for people who weren't open minded enough to accept homosexuality. Maybe they had self-esteem problems that they tried to cover by being homophobic assholes. Harry felt empathy for them; he thought it was pretty sad to be filled with hatred for something that was only a different form of loving.

Louis wasn't one, though. Louis wasn't a homophobic asshole, and Harry knew it.

Louis was warm and cheerful. Everything about him radiated warmth and light towards people around him; every single person, no matter what they looked like or what they believed in or what they felt. Harry wondered if that was the reason for the shadows in Louis' blue eyes; maybe he radiated too much for his own good, maybe he himself was left with not enough light. Maybe Louis gave out so much energy that there was not enough left inside him.

Louis was loving and accepting. He never ignored or missed if Harry wasn't in a good mood; Louis always asked if Harry was alright, and if there was something wrong. Louis got upset over news and incidents that somehow offended human rights; once Harry had listened to Louis ranting about a leader in Middle East who disregarded the rights of women and certain religions. The rant had leaded into Louis' speech about the fact everyone was equal and _he had no fucking idea how anyone could think someone would be any less valuable than them, no-fucking-matter what_. As the cherry on the cake, Harry had once seen a cute lesbian couple and pointed it out to Louis ("Look, Louis, how cute are they!") and Louis had agreed immediately, watching at the couple with a warm smile.

Louis wasn't a homophobic asshole. Harry was sure of it.

Either way, Harry was hurt. As said, he wasn't necessarily _mad_ \- Harry didn't really do "mad" in general, anyway - but he was offended. _Yes, that's probably the right word_ , Harry thought as he turned onto his side, lifting his upper body with his arm. (The couch was not only ugly, but also very uncomfortable. He decided they needed a knew one.) Harry was offended and upset. And definitely not ready to forgive Louis, especially since the guy hadn't done anything to apologize. That didn't seem Louis-like either - _not apologizing_. Louis seemed like a guy who would settle everything immediately, radiate the light of his and be forgiven in less than a minute.

Harry frowned; or maybe Louis was a proud twat who couldn't admit his mistakes.

The thing was, Harry knew Louis wasn't. Which was what confused Harry even more. According to the three weeks Harry had known Louis, there was nothing that said "proud twat". Harry knew three weeks sounded like such a short time, but in this case it was not. Call him a romantic, but for Harry it felt like he had known Louis for his whole life. Or actually, it felt like Harry had known Louis even before they had met, like their souls had been connected to each other before they had even existed. It was a cliché, but Harry thought it was a nice cliché. And clichés were clichés for a reason.

Maybe Harry should write a song about clichés. Or about meeting Louis. (Well, he already had written the latter. He was such a sap.)

There was something about Louis that had felt familiar right from the beginning, and maybe it was that, or maybe it was something else, but Harry knew there was something that didn’t fit into the fact Louis had insulted Harry, despite the pit of hurt in his stomach. Harry just _knew_. He wasn’t being a hopeful fool, he wasn’t being a smitten idiot. He just knew Louis wasn’t one to hurt Harry on purpose.

Harry was hurt, but he couldn't help wondering what was currently going through Louis' mind.

 

***

 

Louis hadn't left the flat in days.

He wasn't sure how many days had passed. Something between three and five, probably, but it felt like years. Something between three and five years.

The voices in his head had never been as loud, as raging. Not even when Louis had heard them for the first time at the age of 13, when the words had started existing, when they had come to life from a mouth he had so badly wanted to support him. No, not even then had his head been screaming as loudly as it was now.

The worst part was the fact that the voices had increased. There were more of them, now. Voices that Louis had never even heard but that had taken room in his mind, joining the harmony of the old ones. At least the old ones had a source; but the new ones didn't, and Louis had no idea where they were from. He was afraid they were from himself.

Louis knew he should have left his house. He should have done that days ago. He should have talked to someone, he should have pulled himself together and back to life, bury the war in his head. He should have resisted the urge to stay home and swim in his head.

He just didn't really _feel_ like doing that.

And even if he would have, Louis was pretty sure he couldn't have done that. He wasn't strong enough. Six years he had managed to be on the wheel - most of the time, anyway. Six years he had managed to pull through everything and come out from the other side. Six years he had managed to find a way to deal with whatever was going on in his mind.

Now he didn't really _feel_ like he would.

It was easier when people were around. That was when Louis had to pretend everything was okay; he had to put a show on. Happy Louis, talkative Louis, sociable Louis, fine Louis. When he was forced to do it he actually did it; and during years he had become so good at pretending he sometimes almost believed it himself. He was Louis, a normal university student with nothing weird going on his head, and he was fine. Everything was fine. In all honesty, Louis would have probably earned an Oscar for his acting skills. The best thing was that he was almost always surrounded by people, and the company of people meant the duty to pretend it was okay. Living with Liam, going to the uni, practising with a team - he had built himself a life that helped him to hide everything that was wrong with him.

However, sometimes hiding was difficult, nearly impossible. Louis knew for sure Zayn knew something about him and his past; after all, at the age of 14 he had basically lived with Zayn's family, sleepovers being more of a daily thing than an irregular one. Zayn had never really questioned it; Louis thought that maybe it was simply just because Zayn _knew_. Zayn knew that since 13 Louis hadn't been okay, he knew that there was something wrong, and he knew not to make questions that would make Louis uncomfortable. There was a reason for the fact Zayn was probably Louis' best friend.

Liam probably knew something about Louis desperate need to surround himself with people, too. It was kind of inevitable, considering that they had lived together for about three years now. Liam was smart and sensitive; he noticed things that were left to be noticed for most people. Sometimes Louis’ walls had nearly broken down when he was home alone, and Liam had come home just in time when the mess was about to begin, and without questions he had always made it right. Whether it was by setting up a movie night, or starting to talk Louis about his day, or inviting some friends and making some delicious food; Liam always made it better, and Louis was thankful for that. What he was even more thankful for was the fact Liam didn’t ask what was wrong.

Actually, once Liam had asked him that unfortunate question ( _what's wrong?_ ), in the very beginning of their flatmate times. After Louis had answered a cold "nothing", and Liam had started demanding for an answer, Louis had went into panic. He hadn’t been able to talk or breathe, his body trembling like a leaf in angry autumn wind. It had taken Liam twenty minutes to calm Louis down. Louis was ashamed to even think about that incident, so he rather didn't. Fortunately Liam had never brought it up again.

But during the weekend he hadn’t been surrounded by people. He been all alone, his thoughts louder than ever, the emptiness, or the pain, if there even was a difference between the two, bigger than ever, and he didn't _have_ to put up a show.

So he didn't. He had let himself drown in his head, with no censor over the things that filled his mind, and the two days of the weekend had been enough to make him skip the day at the university on Monday. And on Tuesday. Maybe on Wednesday too, depending on the day it currently was. Louis didn't know nor care. He just wanted to disappear. He wanted to drown in his self-loathe.

For six years he had managed to keep the show on. He had managed to build a wall; a barrier between the dark parts of his mind and the rest of him. It wasn't a wall that was permanent once it was built; it was a wall that had to be strengthened all the time so it didn't fall down into a pile of bricks.

Which was what there was left of the barrier. A pile of bricks. He didn't know how to build it back, how to redo the work of six years; and he wasn't sure if he was even worth it. (Honestly, he was sure he was not worth it. That was probably the only thing every part of his mind agreed on; he was _not_ worth it.)

Since he didn't know what to do, he just sat on the couch, listening to the depths of his mind. He probably cried, too. He couldn't really sleep, either. When he closed his eyes and tried to fall, his mind put up a fucking talk show. A talk show that was starred by his emotions, his thoughts, himself, and a curly-haired boy, who looked so hurt, the disgust never leaving his green eyes. Louis wished he could have explained; he wished he could have made the hurt go away from a beautiful soul that was put into a form of an artistic, warm and kind and absolutely gorgeous hipster guy.

The words Louis had said at the party were words that he had never aimed at Harry.

He just didn't know how to explain that he had aimed them at the voices that didn't shut up in his head. He didn't know how to explain he had aimed them at himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is absolute fucking bullshit and im very sorry about that. ive had very bad a few days and i blame my shit writing on that. either way, feel free to bash my writing in the comments.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Harry felt a little out of breath as he looked into Louis’ blue eyes – despite all the crying the boy looked so beautiful. Harry couldn’t really imagine Louis not looking beautiful. It didn’t matter if Louis' face had lost its colour for the crying, if his clothes were old and worn, if his hair was a greasy mess – Louis, somehow, managed to still be the most gorgeous thing Harry had ever seen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SSO SOSOSO SO SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN AGES, ive been literally so busy ive had no time to write. sorry. here have a 5.4k chapter (yea it just got a little long omg 5.4k words) as an apology. sorry sorry sorry.

It was Friday.

According to Harry's mathematic skills, it had been exactly a week since the party. Seven long, boring, bad days. About 160 hours that had been dull and painful and stupid.

But during those about ten thousand seconds - Harry had been calculating things because why not - Harry's curiosity had gotten into an amount that was nearly unbearable.

Harry was a curious person. That was probably why he read, too. Once he opened a book and read the first pages, he couldn't let the book out of his hands. He wanted to know more, he wanted to find things out about the characters and the plot. He wanted to know why an angry woman was angry and why a happy man got mad after the first chapter. Interesting characters were his drug; they were what he lived for, what kept his mind bright and on point.

Now the character he was interested in wasn't in any book. It happened to be Louis.

He wanted to know Louis's character traits. Louis was that happy man who had gotten mad after the first chapter; and Harry was the reader, dying to know what the chapter two had to give. Even if the second chapter would reveal a pile of dirt and skeletons; he wanted to know. He wanted to know _Louis_.

That's why Harry got up and ready. His beloved skinny jeans were already on the back of the chair in his tiny room, and from a closet he dug out a worn, warm sweater. It was nice beige, matching Harry's milky skin colour. Some people thought beige was boring, but Harry thought beige was underestimated. Beige was capable of getting along with any other colour and it was always reliable; when nothing else fit, beige was there. Harry thought beige was kind of like Harry himself. Cooperative and reliable.

Before covering his long torso with the comfy sweater he took a glance at the mirror. His tattoos were covering most skin on the left arm, some adorning his chest and stomach. Harry's lips quirked up a little as his eyes wandered over the massive butterfly tattoo on his abs; he still remembered a conversation he had had with Nick after getting a tattoo. ("Harry, that's the gayest tattoo I've ever seen." "That's coming from the gayest man I've ever met, Nick.")

However, the tattoo Harry's eyes stopped at was on his arm. It was the huge ship, covering most of his bicep. Harry's brows pressed into a slight frown, the fingers of his right arm tracing the detailed features softly.

Harry had never been a big believer in fate, but during the past a few weeks he had started to consider the possibility of his beliefs being wrong. How could he not, after meeting the most beautiful boy at a library - a boy with a compass tattooed onto his arm? Harry could still perfectly recall the moment he had seen Louis' compass, the ridiculous disbelief Harry had felt. His own ship tattoo had a story, and since getting it he had hoped that some day the story would be completed. After meeting Louis, Harry had started to think that maybe fate wanted to complete the story too.

The thought of fate drove Harry as he walked his way to the university. The day was pretty, a little cloudy maybe, but pretty either way; it didn't trick Harry though. Pretty didn't mean it was warm or nice.In fact, it was everything but nice - it was _cold_. Harry hated cold. He didn't like the word "hate", but cold was something that he needed to describe with such a powerful word. Harry hated feeling cold, whether it was physically or mentally. Currently he was feeling both and he pretty much couldn't stand it.

Cold sucked.

Harry tucked his chin into the high collar of the warm, woollen trench coat he was wearing. The yard of the university looked quite empty, apart from a few students that were either horribly late or left the classes early.

Harry had no idea what he was looking for. After the days he had spent thinking about Louis he was pretty sure he didn't want to see the boy with the caramel hair and blue eyes. At least not by bumping into him at Louis' own university. In Harry's mind, their meeting included Louis who had come to beg for Harry's forgiveness. So what was the exact thing he wanted to see, what he expected? Not even Harry himself was sure.

Answers, maybe. Some kind of an explanation for the party and the week after it. Some reasons for the fact Louis hadn't contacted him in any way. Or maybe he _did_ want to see Louis, after all. Maybe he did want to see the way Louis looked at Harry; he wanted to see the look in the boy’s eyes. He wanted to know if the blue reflected the words Harry had heard about a week ago.

The thing was, subconsciously Harry knew they didn't. They wouldn't. In the party, before Harry had left Louis alone into the kitchen, he had seen Louis' eyes.

They had been as shocked, if not even more shocked, as Harry. There had been an instant regret and panic, a look that somehow seemed asking, nearly _begging_. It was like Louis had said _please_ with no words, with just the blue of his eyes, and Harry couldn't really come up with any reasonable explanations for it. He didn't know what that  _please_ was for, he didn't even know if it was a _please_ in the first place. He couldn't really tell if what he had seen was even correct. (Yes he could. He was sure his mind and his eyes didn't lie.)

Either way, there Harry was. Standing on the yard he didn't feel like he belonged to. He had never felt like schools or universities were _his_ place, and nothing had changed. Slightly awkwardly he crossed the yard, gravel of the avenue cracking under his boots, ending up to the main doors. (Harry assumed they were the main doors - they were all _big_ and _fancy_ , which Harry found suitable for main doors.)

He knew the period would end soon and the hallways would fill up with people, but he definitely did _not_ know what he was going to do when it would. It was a huge university, so he probably wouldn't bump into Louis even if he wanted to. And when he probably didn't even want to, the mission of his little trip was completely unknown even for Harry himself. Regardless of that, Harry was already there, which was why he decided to see what the break after the current period would have to offer.

For a while Harry wandered on the hallways, trying to look like he wasn't completely out of place. Maybe he sort of succeeded, earning a friendly nod from a girl who passed him on a hallway. She was pretty, catching his attention with lovely brown curls and delicate, heart-shaped face. She looked like one of those girls that were on every kind of hipster pictures online. Harry returned the nod with a polite smile; maybe the university wasn't that bad, after all.

The last minute of the period passed, and a few seconds later a steady flow of people started to fill the hallways. At first there was only a few of them, but slowly the amount started to increase, and soon there was barely any space left. Harry felt uncomfortable in big groups of people; he didn't like big crowds. That's one of the reasons he disliked places like universities and schools - too much noise, too little space.

Libraries were calm and spacious. That was probably the main reason Harry liked them.

The little trip to the university had been a bad idea. Or pointless, anyway - Harry hadn't found that thing he didn't even know he was looking for. Too much strange people. There were probably thousands of students, and no chance to bump into the ones Harry knew.

Or that's what Harry thought a second before he heard a voice that was familiar, yet unrecognizable for Harry.

"Harry? Harry Styles?"

Surprised Harry turned around, to find out the source of the husky voice. His mind connected the black hair and model-alike features to the name immediately.

"Zayn?"

But for some reason the emotion on Zayn's gorgeous - Harry had to admit the boy had got the looks - face wasn't welcoming or positive. Actually, it was nearly angry. Harry couldn't help but wonder what Louis had said about him, and he felt the thought as if it had been a kick to his ribs.

"Yeah," was all Zayn said. Harry wasn't one to find any kind of situations awkward, but now there was a tension that filled perfectly the description of the word. It made Harry shift his weight from is one feet to another.

After a tiny moment that they stood in the flow of moving people, just staring at each other, Zayn spoke again.

"Actually, it's good that you're here. Do you happen to have any idea why no one has heard about Louis during this week, huh? Has he been with you again?"

Harry frowned. He felt like Zayn was somehow accusing him - he wasn't even sure for what. "No, I haven't seen Louis in a week. Not since-" he took a sharp breath that probably wasn't left unnoticed by Zayn, "not since that party."

Zayn examined Harry with his hazel eyes. "Did something happen there?"

Harry felt a cold rush going through his bones. He broke the eye contact with Zayn - _mistake_. Zayn's eyes widened slightly, so little it was barely visible; but Harry saw.

"Something did happen? Mind telling me _what_?"

Zayn's voice was low and dark, nearly threatening. Too bad Harry didn't take threats. He might have been soft, not really described as a tough guy, but after all, he was six feet tall, confident with himself and definitely not responsible for anything. It wasn't okay for Harry's pride to back up like a scared bunny when he didn't have any reason to. That's why Harry straightened his back and gave Zayn a cold stare.

"Why don't you ask Louis."

Zayn's jaw tensed; he took a tiny step forward. He reminded Harry of a black panther that was about to attack.

"I would. _If he answered my calls. Or came to school._ I don't know what the fuck happened, Styles, but he was doing so good. So like, I don't know what happened, but I swear to God if it was something you did-“

Zayn reminded Harry of someone who tried to act like a bad boy from a ganster movie. Or maybe a popular jock from a high school movie; thinking that he was _the shit_ , someone everyone were afraid of. The thought almost made Harry laugh; maybe someone should have told Zayn that he wasn't living in a movie. And that Harry wasn't buying his bad boy crap. Unfortunately Harry wasn't in a mood of making enemies; instead of that he decided to ignore Zayn's threatening words and stay in the topic.

"You haven't heard about Louis _at all_? But he lives with Liam, right? "

"Yeah, but Liam's in Spain," Zayn muttered. "And to answer your question, no, I haven't heard about him. Neither has anyone else."

"And you haven't, like, checked him out?"

Suddenly Zayn looked a little embarrassed, his threatening position falling down slightly. "No, I- I haven't. At first I thought he was hanging out with you, or just skipping classes as usually, but then someone said he's been skipping practises too. And you know, Louis never does that."

"But have you called him? Or texted?"

"Of course, do you think I'm stupid?" ( _Yes_ , Harry answered silently) "I've tried, but his phone's apparently dead, it goes straight to his answering machine."

Harry frowned. "His phone has been dead for a week? And it never occured to you to find out why?"

"I've known about it for only two days now," Zayn said, giving Harry a death glare, "Louis isn't a type of guy who spends all of his time on his phone like most people these days. I tried to call him on Wednesday evening, because before that I just thought he couldn't be bothered with school."

Harry had to resist the urge of shaking his head. It was ridiculous that Louis had been gone for a week, without no one knowing where he was. His common sense told him that Louis was probably just sick or something, but he still found it weird Louis hadn't let Zayn - who Louis had described as his "best friend" - know about it. Maybe it was just Louis, but it didn't feel right for Harry. "Okay, um- I think I'm gonna go. Um, thanks, I guess."

Harry turned around, leaving confused Zayn to the hallway. Quickly Harry made his way through the crowd, finding his way back to the doors and out of the building. On his way he thought that Zayn definitely had something against him, but he had no idea what. Especially since Louis hadn't even told about the whole _kissing thing_.

His curiosity had gotten a new shade; worry.

Although Harry knew he should have probably been mad, his personality didn't let him ignore the fact Louis had been out of everyone's reach for days. He couldn't help worrying at the bottom of his stomach. It was probably nothing, but.

Harry had to be sure.

Louis' flat wasn't far away from the university, which was why Harry decided to pay a quick visit right away. Louis didn't answer his phone, after all, so giving Louis a heads up about it had no use. He questioned the need to go to see Louis; Louis probably didn't want to see him. It was pretty obvious since the boy hadn't called him or even texted him to apologize. Harry wasn't that mad about what had happened - what he was mad about was what _hadn't_ happened, and that was an apology. It wouldn't have taken that much effort from Louis. A quick phone call; or even a simple _text_ that said "sorry" would have been better than nothing. It made Harry feel like he wasn't worth Louis' time or effort, and considering Louis had Harry all head over heels, it made Harry feel like complete shit.  
   
Those thoughts just got stronger during the quick walk that only took about fifteen minutes; but finally, there he was, standing at Louis' door. There was not going back.

Harry took a deep breath. He didn't know he should react if Louis opened the door. What would he say?

_Hey, just checking you out because I was stalking your university and Zayn told me he hadn't heard about you._

_Hey, thanks for making me worried. Also thanks for calling me by names. I'm still mad. But worried.  
_

_Hey, would be nice to know you're okay. Would also be nice to get an apology.  
_

_Hey look, you're okay. Or at least not sick enough to ignore everyone.  
_

_Hey, I don't have any fucking idea why I'm here. So. Just gonna leave now._

_Hey. Fuck you.  
_

Harry hadn't really figured it out yet as he was already knocking the door. One careful knock, two a little harder ones. His heart was bumping so hard he was pretty sure it would soon break his chest, and he tried to steady his breath - he wasn't ready to go to the doctor because of broken ribs.

He waited for ten seconds. And another ten. Another and another.

After about a minute he started to doubt that Louis was even home.

But then he glanced at the window, seeing a tiny movement behind the blind. He didn't know whether it was a person or TV or something else, but it was something. And as far as Harry knew, neither Louis or Liam owned any pets that could have been the source of the movement. Either there was a thief in the house, or someone was home.

Harry cursed his responsible mind when he knocked the door again, harder this time. His sense of reason was telling him to leave, but his damn insisting conscience was preventing him from doing that.

But no one opened the door.

It was when Harry finally felt the serious worry filling his insides. He just wanted to make sure Louis was alright. That's all. He wanted to make sure he wouldn't have to worry. It just wasn't that easily done as the door in front of him was locked and no one clearly had any intentions to open it. He didn't know what to do - until it hit him.

The flower pot was there, next to the door as it had been the last time. Harry felt how his hands started to get sweaty inside his gloves despite the cold weather.

For a few seconds he contemplated it. Would it be considered as breaking in when he happened to know the place for the spare key and he could easily just unlock the door and, well, check Louis out?

Harry decided it was not, as he leaned next to the flower pot and found the key hidden under a plant that Harry couldn't name, but that reminded him of a tiny tree. He hesitated for a moment before sticking the key to the lock.

The lock opened easily and quietly - Harry almost hoped it would have made some noise to possibly warn Louis that someone was at the door. Harry pulled the door open slowly, a flash of warm air welcoming him. It smelled like Louis, mixed with some other scents Harry couldn't put a name on. It was so familiar that Harry shuddered slightly. He had missed Louis scent, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Harry coughed. "Hello?"

No answer. Harry stepped in to the darkness - or at least it felt like darkness after the bright sunlight outside. The flat had no lights on.

"Louis?"

After Harry's call the silence settled in again. Harry swallowed - he didn't know whether he was more nervous over breaking in or the fact it seemed like there was no one home.

He closed the door behind him as he walked further in. Louis' fur collared denim jacket was hanging next to the door, and the black Vans Louis always used were in the middle of the tiny hallway. Suddenly Harry got extremely curious; he had never been in Louis' flat. In Harry's opinion people's houses told a lot about them which was why Harry found them so interesting.

What Harry saw first was a kitchen. It was little, and apparently in need of cleaning; as Harry walked closer, he saw a pile of dirty dishes and empty food cans. While Harry observed the kitchen better he realized that it wasn't that dark in the flat, after all - the curtains and blinds let out just enough light. His eyes had gotten used to the dim lighting.

Harry then glanced around; his eyes detected the living room that was basically in the same space with the kitchen. The living room was nice and cozy, the furniture partly matching to each other and partly not; it looked like two people had combined the furnitures from their old houses, mixing two completely different styles of decoration. It was nice, though - Harry wouldn't have changed the tiniest thing.

But what caught his attention was a messy pile of limbs, brown hair and sweats.

Louis was curled up into a ball in the corner of the couch, eyes closed, ears plugged with headphones. Harry wasn't sure whether he was sleeping or not, but then Louis' eyelids fluttered a little, revealing the blue eyes - and Harry froze.

When Harry realized he wasn't supposed to be there, it was little too late. Louis' eyes widened - Harry noticed dimly the puffy, red eyes and the wet cheeks that now shone in the sunlight as Louis moved - and a matter of seconds Louis was sitting up, looking like he was on the verge of a heart attack. Thin lips took a sharp breath, the tiny body looked like it was electrocuted.

"The _fuck_ -"

Louis' voice was so raspy, like he hadn't talked in days - it broke in the end, in a way that could've been funny in some other situation.

Now it wasn't.

"Harry, what the fuck- how the fuck-"

Harry opened his mouth, but his mind was completely blank. He spread his arms, bit his bottom lip, and, "I just. The key- Zayn- I. Um. Honestly don't know."

Louis started to calm down from his shock. Unfortunately, at the same time it seemed like he was starting to realize the situation, as his body relaxed a little but became more self-aware; he turned around quickly, hiding his face and the messy fringe.

"Louis, I-"

"What."

It wasn't a question, it was an annoyed statement that basically said _I don't really fucking care what you have to say so could you just fucking get on with it and then leave_.

If Louis hadn't looked so horrible, Harry would probably have gotten mad. Hell, he _was_ mad, and he had a reason to be, and Louis definitely was not in a place to act like a dick - but then, Louis was an absolute mess, as was the whole house. Therefore, Harry didn't just leave without another word; he walked a little closer instead.

"I'm checking out if you're okay, which is quite polite of me after what happened."

"Well, I'm okay, so."

Harry almost laughed at that. Just almost.

"Are you _kidding_ me Louis? Okay? Which part of this is considered as _okay_?"

Louis answered with a huff, his back still at Harry. The amount of money Harry would have paid to see his face at that moment was ridiculous.

"So you're telling me that nothing's wrong? That you've been _completely_ fine since last Friday? That this- this _disappearance_ has nothing to do with the fact I _kissed_ you, Louis?"

Louis flinched; there was a tiny whimper as an answer. Which just fuelled Harry even more.

"Because yeah, Louis, I _kissed_ you, I fucking _kissed_ you, and you- you-"

But then he saw how Louis' shoulders trembled a little. It was like the boy was trying to suffocate it, like he was trying to hide the fact his whole body was about to fall apart. Harry let out a quiet " _shit_ ", and then it took less than ten seconds for Harry to reach the couch, sit next to Louis and pull the crying boy into Harry's strong arms.

"S-stop Harry, don't-"

Louis' voice was barely a whine or a whimper, the words falling out so weak and so little. He was trying to fight his way out of Harry's embrace, but soon he gave in, the flow of tears quickly making Harry's shoulder moist. Louis was a shaky mess in Harry's arms, and he had no idea what was going on, but he needed to make it stop. He needed to make Louis' crying stop.

"Shh, Lou, shh... I'm sorry, shh..."

"Don't, Harry, don't be so n-nice, d-don't, you s-should be m-mad at me, you should make me feel more ho-horrible, you should be m-mad-"

"I am mad," Harry whispered softly. "But now we need you to calm down, Lou, please breathe..."

But Louis didn't breathe. Instead of that his body, that felt so, so tiny and weak in Harry's arms, started to actually shake, like there was an inner power than send electricity through it. Harry felt a lump in his throat as he pulled Louis closer, and Louis cried. He cried like he had never been crying before. Harry whispered his name, soothing, petting, hushing. He couldn't say anything out loud because he felt the tears in his own eyes too, and talking would have made the tears flow. The feeling of Louis clinging to Harry like Harry was vital to him was too much, but Harry knew he couldn't start bawling, he couldn't have done that for Louis. He just ignored the way his throat was burning along with his eyes. And maybe he shed a tear or two, but they were for only him to know.

"H-harry-"

"Shh, Lou, shh, it's okay..."

It took a while until Louis' relentless sobbing started to calm down, but after some time there weren't tears anymore - Harry thought that maybe Louis was just out of them - there were just hiccups and broken sobs every now and then.

"It's okay, Lou..." Harry whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"Shit," Louis mumbled weakly, his voice cracking, making Louis laugh a little - it was more of a sob than a laughter though, but Harry thought it was a good place to begin with.

"I'm like a fucking baby," Louis murmured, burying his head to Harry's chest sheepishly. It was probably because he was too embarrassed to show his swollen face and red eyes, but Harry surely didn't mind holding Louis. He didn't mind feeling Louis' head against his chest.

"Shit," Louis mumbled again, after a moment. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay, I just hope you're better now-"

"You dumb giant," Louis mumbled as he shoved himself away from Harry's embrace, lifting his head, "that's not what I mean."

"I'm not even _that_ tall..." Harry murmured, acting offended.

"I'm trying to fucking apologize here, Harry."

That was when Louis raised his gaze, the puffy blue eyes meeting green ones, and Harry saw immeadiately that he was being serious.

The emotion in them was so _pure_. Harry couldn't find other words to describe it; it was so open, honest, asking, trustful - a mixture of things that left Louis' eyes, the mirrors of his soul, wide open for Harry.

"I'm so sorry."

Harry turned his eyes down, facing his hand in his lap.

"What I said- probably the stupidest thing I've ever said, and I'm so sorry-"

"So I had to get here by myself in order to get an apology," Harry said quietly, still staring at his hands. It seemed like Louis really meant what he said, but Harry still couldn't help the empty feeling in his stomach. Louis hadn't bothered to make sure Harry was okay.

"Harry..." Louis' voice was so small, nearly pathetic.

"I mean, you could have called. It's been a week, Louis," he kept a tiny pause, "a _week_."

There was a silence in between them; a silence that Harry had no intentions to fill.

"I was... scared."

Harry snapped his gaze back to Louis, without even trying to hide his suspicious surprisement - but apparently it was now Louis who was staring at his hands.

"Scared? Why the- what would you be scared of? _Me_?"

"I." Louis was now nervously playing with his hands. "I don't know. I just. Thought you wouldn't wanna see me. Talk to me. Thought no one would."

Harry wanted to pull Louis back into his arms, but his pride told him to not. "You should have called. Of course I would have wanted to talk to you."

"You were mad."

"Yeah, but more because you didn't apologize, not because of- of what happened."

Louis voice had turned into barely a whisper. "Thought you hated me."

"Louis," Harry's voice finally melted down into a warm and gentle mumble, "I would never hate you, Louis- I never could."

Finally Louis glanced at Harry. Carefully, the blue eyes still unsure, yet for some reason hopeful; like Louis had hard time believing what he had heard. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Harry gave Louis a little smile, which was answered with Louis’ shy smile. Harry felt a little out of breath as he looked into Louis’ blue eyes – despite all the crying the boy looked so beautiful. Harry couldn’t really imagine Louis _not_ looking beautiful. It didn’t matter if Louis' face had lost its colour for the crying, if his clothes were old and worn, if his hair was a greasy mess – Louis, somehow, managed to still be the most gorgeous thing Harry had ever seen.

This was Louis’ rainy day, and as Harry had known, it had beauty in it.

What wasn’t that clear, though, was the reason for Louis’ current state. Harry didn’t really believe that the only thing that had kept Louis home, away from any social contact, was just the fact Louis was too scared to call Harry. He could have still gone to the university, he could have met his other friends, and Harry was curious. Especially now, when Louis was finally looking like he was nearly calmed down, a ghost of a smile playing on his thin lips.

“Louis… can I ask you something?”

Louis turned his gaze back to Harry; his eyes still open and trusting, although slightly careful. “Sure?”

“I, um. What, you know, really happened?”

Louis tensed. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Louis,” Harry said softly, trying to keep any marks of threat or pressuring out of his voice.

His effort to not upset Louis again just wasn’t enough.

Louis eyes, so open and pure just a few seconds ago, went suddenly blank. It was like there was a door behind them, closing in front of Harry’s eyes, hiding the emotions that had been to see so strongly just a moment ago. It was a calm panic in Louis eyes, even if that combination of words made no sense; it was a suffocated agony, somewhere behind Louis’ calm blue.

“I-“

Harry noticed Louis wasn’t really breathing – his chest wasn’t rising steadily. Instead of that his body was trembling slightly; so, so slightly Harry wouldn’t have noticed it if he wouldn’t have accidentally taken a look at Louis’ hands that were shaking. He wasn't ready to see Louis break down again.

“Shit, sorry, Louis, I- forget it, it’s okay-“

Louis shook his head furiously. “Don’t apologize, you didn’t make me feel like shit a week ago.”

Harry glanced at his hands. “Sure about that? For me it seems like I did.”

“You didn’t.”

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. “Then why-"

"Because."

Harry was starting to get frustrated; he knew he shouldn't have, but he was dying to know what had been going on in Louis' head, what _was_ going on in Louis' head. "Louis, please, I just want to know. It's- it's that I like you, Louis, I like you, more than as a friend-"

"I get it Harry-"

"No, fuck, Louis, you don't get it! I like you, if not more, I think I'm _falling_ for you-"

It was out before Harry had time to stop himself. The words hung into the air like a curtain, making it feel thick and heavy behind them; so thick Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe. And it seemed like Louis shared the feeling. His mouth had dropped open, blue eyes staring right at Harry, wide open.

“I-“

“No,” Harry interrupted, “don’t- don't say anything, please, just-  just know it. Because I am."

If Harry hadn't known better, the emotion hidden behind Louis' eyes would have been amazement. Positive amazement. But Harry probably just imagined it; he was hopelessly wishing that Louis would return the feeling someday, and hopeless mind did hopeless assumptions. He just couldn't help feeling like there was warmth in Louis' astonishment.

"Harry..." Louis murmured softly, and Harry was surprised how soothing that sound of breath was. There was no panic, but neither was there any other kind of emotion - it was just calm and soft. Something about it provoked Harry, gave him a push that encouraged him.

"I'm falling for you, Louis."

Louis turned to look at Harry's hand, covering it with his own, small one. Harry's gaze traced the same path - the size difference was ridiculous, yet somehow it fit, and Louis hand was so cool against his warm one - the cliché that passed Harry's mind was "opposites attract", and in that moment he was pretty sure the saying had a point. The tingles Louis' touch sent through Harry's body made him swallow; he was afraid to look if Louis was watching him.

"I hope you're wearing a helmet, Harry."

It was covered as a joke, but Harry knew Louis wasn't making fun of him - he wasn't making fun of anything at all. He was warning Harry. Not threatening, but warning. Telling Harry that it wasn't a nice fall; telling it would probably hurt.

Too bad Harry had passed the point of warning signs the minute he had kissed Louis.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again damn im sorry ive just been so busy, i even had to hurry with this chapter bc i have like 6 deadlines for tomorrow and im fucked but i thought i rly should update so fuck education. im gonna try and be better with the updates!!! i would rly like to know what you thought so pls let a comment about whether you liked it or not and if you liked it i would rly appreciate kudos pls and thank


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Even at Louis’ worst place – Harry was sure Louis hadn’t showered in days – Louis was absolutely stunning. The creamy hair was a greasy mess, but it was the most gorgeous bed hair Harry had ever seen. The locks were curving slightly at the ends, and the fringe was tangled yet still looking incredibly soft. Harry wasn’t sure how that was possible. There were dark bags under Louis’ eyes, but they were just endearing for Harry, who wanted to tuck Louis in and cuddle him up to make the bags disappear. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY FUCK IM SORRY. DONT HATE ME. PLS. i had exams this week and the last week so i couldnt rly spend hours on a fic so yeah im very sorry but i hope someones still reading pls i havent abandoned the fic i just literally havent had time so thanks if u havent abandoned me

"Can't believe you _really_ watch Celebrity Big Brother. _Really_ , Lou?"

"Hey, it's not that bad, Harold," Louis defended. "It's entertaining, really."

Harry shook his head, laughing. "It's stupid. Please, Louis, it's absolutely stupid."

Harry was glad he had broken into Louis' house because the day had turned out to be great after that. Well, after the moment of awkwardness that had been result of Harry's little confession, anyway. Actually, it was a miracle how well they had gotten past that part. Considering that a few hours ago Louis had been a complete, crying mess, Harry thought it was amazing how nice the day had turned out to be.

They had cleaned the kitchen, and Harry had insisted that he could cook some dinner after finding out Louis hadn't really eaten during the past week. Louis wasn't really talkative over that or the other things that had - or hadn't - happened when he had been alone. Harry had decided that it was for the best to ignore the whole topic and just concentrate on other things, and it seemed like Louis agreed with Harry's unspoken decision.

Now they were back in the living room, watching TV on the sofa, and Harry was loving every second of it, regardless of Louis' bad viewing habits. The empty dishes were on the table, reminding of the great meal they'd had. Harry had felt a huge amount of pride after Louis had praised his cooking skills (not that Harry had memorized the _exact words_ , but they were "Bloody hell, Harry, this is better than anything I've ever tasted"), but what he was even more proud of was that Louis seemed to be alright. It was an accomplishment for Harry; he had made the boy cry, after all. Harry felt like it was his duty to make him smile again. Even though he would have wanted to do it anyway, was it a duty or not.

"Okay, fine." Louis raised his hands up as a sign to surrender. " _Fine_. CBB is stupid shit. I, Louis Tomlinson, admit that I'm hooked on complete bullshit of a show."

"Can I have that on paper?" Harry grinned, only earning a scowl from Louis.

"Don't get too cocky, Styles. I'm sure your guilty pleasures are way worse than mine."

Harry huffed. "I don't really watch TV so I've got nothing to hide."

Louis examined Harry with his eyes, fingers flicking against the armrest. "Movies, then. What are the guilty pleasures of Harry Styles?" he asked dramatically, lowering his voice like a gossip reporter.

Harry bit his lip to prevent a grin on his face. "That's confidential information."

"Oh, come on, Harry! It can't be _that_ bad. Unless you enjoy Twilight movies-"

It was probably the way Harry froze that gave him in.

"Seriously? Harry? Twilight? Are you-" Louis let out a laugh, "are you serious? Oh my god, Harry. Don't tell me you like Twilight movies."

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "Well."

"You should be all _sophisticated_ and hate those movies. Like all the book lovers do. Actually, all the people who consider themselves convincing when it comes to arts."

"There's a reason it's called a guilty pleasure," Harry murmured. He tried to act offended, but barely managed to bite down a smile that was caused by Louis' radiating energy. The difference to the Louis Harry had found just a few hours ago was huge; it was like a warm meal and some company had _charged_ Louis, given him more energy to radiate. Maybe he had used all of his energy; maybe his battery had just been empty.

Louis was still chuckling. "You will hear about this for the rest of your life. Trust me, Harry. I mean, I would _maybe_ understand the books, but- wait, have you read the books, too? Are you, like, a _fan_?"

"Louis _please_..."

"Edward or Jacob?"

For a moment Louis kept teasing Harry, and even though Harry acted like he was bothered by it, he really wasn't. He was just happy Louis seemed to be happy again, in just a few hours' time. A voice at the back of Harry's head told him that he hadn't seen the last of Louis' rainy days, but he ignored it and embraced Louis' happiness. If making Louis smile and laugh required that Harry made fool of himself, he was definitely up to it. He would have embarrassed himself completely just to make Louis a little less sad. 

After a while Louis gave up on making fun of Harry, and for some time they just stared at Celebrity Big Brother in silence. Or Louis watched Celebrity Big Brother, and Harry watched Louis watching it. He tried to be sneaky about it, but for his fortune Louis actually concentrated on the show, letting out mumbled curse words every now and then, mostly when people he didn't like were on. It gave Harry a perfect moment to admire Louis shamelessly.

Even at Louis’ worst place – Harry was sure Louis hadn’t showered in days – Louis was absolutely stunning. The creamy hair was a greasy mess, but it was the most gorgeous bed hair Harry had ever seen. The locks were curving slightly at the ends, and the fringe was tangled yet still looking incredibly soft. Harry wasn’t sure how that was possible. There were dark bags under Louis’ eyes, but they were just endearing for Harry, who wanted to tuck Louis in and cuddle him up to make the bags disappear.

Louis’ skin, that was usually tanned and glowing, had barely any colour. It was so pale, nearly grey, and Harry wanted to return the glow. He wanted to bring back the sunkissed shine Louis’ skin usually had. It wasn’t because Harry would have found Louis’ paleness unattractive; it was because it hurt Harry’s heart to see the gorgeous boy looking like the life had been sucked out of him. Louis was beautiful either way, but Harry preferred Louis who was being well.

Louis interrupted Harry’s thoughts. “That guy is a dick.”

“He’s in Big Brother. Of course he’s a dick.”

“Watch it, I’m gonna remember that when I’m famous and on CBB,” Louis warned, adopting a cocky expression onto his face. Harry shook his head and grinned.

“You would be the biggest dick on the show, to be honest.”

“Gee, thanks Harry!”

“I would still like you, though. Not regardless of it, but because of it,” Harry said, lowering his voice in an exaggeratedly poetic way. “If I can’t like you at your worst, I don’t deserve you at your best.”

“What the fuck even are you, Styles.”

“You tell me.”

“A secret literature community called and told me you’re their secret weapon against the unsophisticated people. They also said they want you back.”

“That’s lame,” Harry said, but couldn’t hold back laughter.

“Not as lame as you though,” Louis pointed out, “you’re the one laughing at it.”

Harry smiled warmly. "True."

Louis seemed to get fluttered as he tore his eyes off Harry's face. Literally tore - it was like Louis lingered the gaze as long as he could, against his own will.

They slipped into a silence again, but it didn't take long until Harry broke it again. He was starting to be certain about the fact Louis was stable again, and he knew Louis had been ignoring literally everyone. He talked with experience as he said that there were a lot of people who were worried about the blue-eyed boy. As much as he would have wanted to keep Louis all for himself for the night, he his conscience told him that the people deserved to know Louis was okay. Sort of.

"You should charge your phone and check it. I think your friends are worried," Harry said carefully, glancing at Louis' phone that was forgotten on the kitchen table. Louis blue eyes wandered there, delicate fingers tracing the fabric of a cushion next to him.

"Yeah, I should. Later."

"Sooner is always better than later," Harry suggested. "Really."

Louis sighed, his fingers stopping at the edge of the cushion. "Yeah. Zayn's probably bloody pissed at me."

“Yeah, I think he is. But only because he's worried, you know. Zayn’s like, your best friend, right?” Harry asked, trying to keep his voice casual. He was quite sure he failed. The earlier conversation was still clear in his mind, and he couldn’t help being curious over the fact it seemed like Zayn would have rather strangled Harry than given him a single smile.

“Yeah. I think he is, really,” Louis said warmly, the adoration radiating from his eyes. It almost made Harry jealous. “He’s known me so long that he actually _knows_ me, you know?”

Then Louis’ warm gaze turned more observant. Harry got a little uncomfortable as Louis let the question out. “Why?”

Harry cleared his throat sheepishly, shrugging as he gave Louis a neutral smile. "I don't think Zayn likes me that much. I have no idea why, though."

For Harry's surprise Louis blushed slightly. “Oh.”

It was Harry’s turn to get all observant. Once again his curiosity took over him when Louis didn’t give him any explanation. "What is it, Lou?"

Louis coughed, getting up from the sofa all of sudden. He went around the couch and made his way to the kitchen to get his phone. It was like he was trying to get an excuse to not look at Harry; the phone was a perfect excuse for Louis to turn his back at Harry, hide his face. Harry noted that Louis' back was even nicer than Harry had remembered, the curve of it nearly obscene; he tried to not get distracted by it. Easier said than done, though.

"Louis?"

Louis was already in the kitchen. His voice was a little muffled because of the distance and the fact his back was still at Harry. "Ehrm. Yeah. He kind of thinks you're like, messing with my mind somehow."

Harry was astonished. He straightened his back and leaned to the back rest of the couch in order to hear Louis better. "Wait- what do you mean 'messing with your head'?"

Louis sifted his weight from one leg to another; he was still standing next to kitchen table, pretending to be playing with his phone. Which was sort of ridiculous, considering that Harry knew it was out of battery. Not to mention that Louis knew Harry knew it.

"Nevermind, it's, uh, nothing."

Too bad Harry was dying to know what that _nothing_ was, since it was clearly not _nothing_. "C’mon Louis, please tell me."

Louis' back was tense; he was now starting to clean up some of the mess on the kitchen table, piling dishes and swiping of some dust.

"I kinda told him that, uhm. That I kinda like you."

Harry's mouth dropped open. Oh. It was definitely something he had not seen coming. Regardless of the surprise, he quickly gathered himself and his jaw up.

"I kinda like you too."

"Harry."

Louis had stopped pretending to be occupied. His back was still at Harry, but he was still. His voice was gentle, but firm; it was a polite cue for Harry to drop it. Which Harry did - although he basically just wanted to protest by walking to Louis and kiss him. Harry's mouth felt suddenly way too dry just by the thought of kissing the boy that was now plugging in a charger for his phone.

Harry still remembered the taste of Louis’ lips; and he just hadn't gotten enough of it.

Either way, Harry obeyed to Louis' wordless request. He didn't want to cause any more drama, especially not this soon, and he decided it was better to let it be.

The older lad plugged in his phone and returned to the couch like none of the little conversation had happened. It was like Louis had removed the whole thing out of his head. Harry was amazed by how well Louis was able to play it cool and surf the channels without any kind of marks of the fact he had basically kind-of-sort-of admitted that he liked Harry. No, there were no signs of that; instead, Louis put the remote away.

"How about a movie marathon?"

For some reason they ended up watching horror movies. Harry wasn't even sure how since he hated horror movies and made that pretty clear in the choosing process; maybe it was Louis' charm and debating skills that overpowered Harry's weak requests to watch some romantic comedies. Horror movies were awful; they included blood and screaming and despair and fear, and Harry wasn't sucker for any of them. He liked things fluffy, safe and comfortable.

Somewhere along the evening Harry somehow got closer to Louis. He couldn't deny the fact he did it on purpose; but how could he not when there was something on TV screen that reminded him of the Grudge. When the pale, long-haired creature appeared behind the protagonist along with massive sound effect, Harry startled and let out a whimper.

In a matter of seconds he felt a comforting arm around him.

Gently, Louis pulled Harry to his side. He was a little tensed, but his hand was stroking Harry's arm anyway, and it was more than Harry could have ever asked.

The movie went on, but Harry wasn't really concentrating on it anymore. He was concentrating on Louis. He was feeling Louis' warmth, breathing him in.

For a while Harry didn't move at all, afraid to cross the invisible line or make Louis more tensed. He didn't have to be afraid for long, though, before Louis body started to relax, his muscles melting under Harry and his strokes becoming calmer. Carefully Harry cuddled up to him, slowly raising his hand onto Louis' chest and leaning into Louis' body. He was observing Louis' reactions with every sense he had, but as Louis didn't seem to get uncomfortable, he nuzzled his cheek to the crook of Louis neck. It made Louis breath hitch slightly, but after a while he relaxed again.

They stayed like that for the rest of the evening. They didn't change a word; they just _were_. Cuddled up to each other, the movies playing at the background. Harry felt so content and safe. It was quite ironic, considering that the horror movie theme was still on and people on TV were screaming and being afraid, but Harry couldn't really bring himself to care. He just wanted to hang onto the moment, because regardless of the safe feeling, there was a bit of fear at the back of his mind. That little voice told him that the moment could be gone any second; Louis could decide he'd had enough. But when the time passed and the movies changed, and Louis was still holding him, the fear started to fade. At some point Harry could've sworn that Louis even pressed his cheek against Harry's curls, which was when he finally decided to let the fear go. He was getting sleepy, anyway, and yeah. Harry was in heaven. Louis was heaven. And heaven was no place for fear.

Before Harry fell asleep there was one thought in his mind. Maybe he didn't mind horror movies that much, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluffy larry thanks this was mostly a short filler but stay tuned for the next chapter bc amazing stuff is about to happen !! sorry again for the lil hiatus blame it on school thanks
> 
> AND. if u still read this pls let me know bc im pretty much writing it for u so if ur still reading just pls comment something or idk somehow let me know ur still there and id rly appreciate feedback n stuff but pls let me know if u even read it pls and thank ((kudos would be appreciated too thanks))


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In movies, it would have been a dramatically beautiful scene, with hundreds of people walking along the streets of London, the night slowly creeping out, to be lighted up with the lights of the city. It would have been beautifully tragic how Louis was left alone in the crowd, standing still with no words to be found, the only thing in his sight being Harry’s back that was slowly drifting away.
> 
> But it was reality, and reality was never like in the movies. Nothing was fancy or dramatic, nothing was beautiful. Everything just hurt, and Louis didn’t know how to take the pain away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hello its way too late to update but im a slave for u and clearly slaves dont need sleep
> 
> this chapter had like barely 3k words and then i edited it and now its at 4.2k i dont know what happened there and its late and i dont know about the possible mistakes bc late and tired but i hope you enjoy pls

_The phone was on the table, mocking him and haunting him. He knew he would have to stop being a coward and pick it up; the procrastination was what made everything always worse._

_Yet he was afraid he was making a mistake. Maybe he was being a cliché, but he was fighting a battle between right and wrong. He just wasn't sure how the two sides were fighting. He was either feeling right doing the wrong thing or wrong doing the right thing - he just didn't know which one was the case. Maybe both. Maybe he was doing the right and the wrong thing while feeling right and wrong about it.  
_

_Maybe he was doing the right thing that was right in every possible wrong way; and he was feeling both wrong that was wrong in every possible right way._

_Confusing, for sure. Especially for him._

_It was for the future to show whether what he was about to do was right or wrong. And mistakes were part of the miracle that was life, anyway. It just didn't give him any comfort; he knew that no matter what he did someone would get hurt, which wasn't a good place even to begin with. None of the alternatives felt good because there was no way to win. But as he was being a cliché, there were many sayings that people used in situations like this. Follow and listen to your heart. Do the right thing. Stop being a selfish fucking prick, for once.  
_

_He was about to follow those quidelines; yet still, it took hours before he could actually bring himself to dial the number. He tried to find every possible excuse for not calling. He tried to convince himself that he could do it in the next morning (or not at all). He tried to convince himself that if he slept overnight, he would see things in a different light and this night would be just a bad dream._

_Too bad he didn't really manage to convince himself. Which was why a_ _t some point, he just decided he had to do it._

_"Hi, El. I think... I think we need to talk."_

_"Yeah... I kinda think that too."_

 

***

 

It had started off as a nice day.

It hadn't been _amazing_ or _great_ , but it had been nice. Louis had woke up to rays of sunshine that had peeked through his curtains. He had taken a nice, long shower right after he had woke up. He had done a tiny morning workout. And what was probably the nicest thing of the morning was that he had his morning coffee with Liam who had finally come back home from Spain. They had shared the latest events; although Louis did his best to avoid talking about himself or what had happened in his life. It was nice being all roommate-y after the two weeks that Louis had spent alone. (More or less alone; Louis was pretty sure their flat was a new library for Harry).

Speaking of, after the relaxing morning Louis had left to meet Harry. They had settled to go to watch a movie - Louis was still trying to convince himself to believe that their friendship was absolutely platonic - which was why Louis got dressed and took the Tube. Even the weather had been nice; not overly beautiful, but nice with only a few clouds blocking the sunlight every now and then.

It had been nice - but it had also been the beginning of problems.

The day before Eleanor had asked Louis to meet her up. Louis had used the fact Liam was back as an excuse to turn down the offer ("Sorry love, but um, Liam is back, and you know, I promised to spend tomorrow with him, you know, roommate stuff, long time no see"). The thing was, he had no intentions to spend the whole day with his roommate, but he thought Eleanor wouldn't have to know that. Besides, he had just met up with his girlfriend a few days ago - it had been slightly awkward because of the lack of communication they'd had, but Louis tried to convince himself that he had filled his _responsibilities_ as a boyfriend. His subconscious tried to tell him that the fact the considered meeting his girlfriend as a "responsibility" was telling enough, but he ignored it: everything was fine, wasn't it?

That's why Louis had (tried to) feel comfortable about his little 100 per cent platonic and friendly meetup with Harry. The underground had taken him near to the cinema, where he had seen the lanky yet fit boy already waiting for him.

Louis had pretended the hitch of his breath was caused by the cold air.

They had bought some popcorn that Harry had insisted to pay, saying that Louis could pay it back just by being cute. Which was, according to Harry, all the time, so Louis wouldn't have to worry. _Maybe friends just called each other cute casually in Cheshire_ , Louis thought. _They probably did. Definitely._

The movie had been nice, too. Louis couldn't really remember what had happened in it though; he had been too occupied avoiding Harry's huge hand that had somehow always found its way too near Louis'. By "too near" Louis meant no less than touching. He was grateful for the bowl of popcorn that gave him a great excuse to keep his hand busy; maybe it was normal to call a friend cute in Cheshire, but hand-holding was a little too much even for Louis. Louis decided he needed to teach some London ways of behaviour for Harry.

The movie had ended - along with the _nice_ part of the day.

They were leaving the theatre, finding their way to the lobby of the cinema. They were chatting about it - Louis pretended he remembered more than just a few bits of it, furiously nodding and agreeing with everything Harry said ("But that scene on the field, though, did you see how nicely it was shot, wasn't it like _art_ , Louis!") - and pulling on their jackets.

Then they reached the beginning of the downhill of the day. Everything happened quickly; Louis could have worn it was just a matter of seconds.

Before Louis had even had time to process the situation, before he had really recognized the familiar curly hair, pretty face and long legs, Eleanor noticed him.

Louis froze under Eleanor's gaze; Harry was, for once, completely oblivious about it; he was playfully ruffling Louis' hair ("This was what that guy did to his pet, you're my pet, Louis-"), but when Eleanor finally said Louis' name, Harry's focus turned to her, too.

"Louis?"

"El," Louis answered, and that one syllable was enough to show his nervousness.

Eleanor had been beautiful as always, her hazel eyes probably as surprised as Louis' blue ones. "Didn't, um, expect to see you here."

"Um, yeah, I'm-"

Then he remembered there was one piece of Harry Styles standing next to him, curiously observing the girl in front of them.

"Harry, this is, um, my-" Louis looked from Harry to Eleanor, and back again, "um. El, this is Harry, and Harry, this is my- this is Eleanor."

It was like Harry had never even noticed the awkward tension as he offered his hand, which Eleanor took and shook after a moment of hesitation. Louis felt the word _girlfriend_ burning at the back of his throat, but the word never game out. He was mentally punching himself: what the fuck was wrong with him?

"Nice to meet you," Harry said with a smile, "yeah, I'm Harry."

Eleanor's eyes were firmly on Harry, even though she gave Louis a glance that Louis could not read. Eleanor was good at that, hiding her emotions; when she really wanted to hide them, Louis had no idea what was going through her mind.

"Nice to meet you too, Harry," Eleanor said politely, smiling at Harry. "Louis' friend?"

"Yeah, a good friend," Harry answered, smiling warmly at Eleanor. It was such a Harry thing to do; being overpolite and friendly towards someone he had never even heard of, not to mention met.

"Oh, I see. Funny, because I don't think I've ever heard about you."

It was disguised as a nice, joking comment with light tone of voice, but Louis knew Eleanor better than that. What she said was probably pretty meaningless to Harry, but not to Louis. She might have seemed like a typical pretty white girl with a slight lack of intelligence, but she was smart, way brighter than it seemed. That was what had caught Louis' attention at the first place, what had been special about the girl.

What she had said was a cue to Louis; a cue that made Louis' conscience burn with guilt.

He had been a shit of a boyfriend lately, really.

"Oh, maybe it's just fair because I haven't hear about you either-" Harry began with a grin, and. _Shit_.

_Shit shit shit._

"-so how do you know Louis? Friend, too?"

Louis wondered if there was a way to invent a teleport machine in five seconds. He wanted nothing more than to have that, because he would have done anything if he just could have disappeared, because _shit_ , things were about to get ugly, and that was the last thing Louis wanted..

" _Girl_ friend. I think."

Take back the previous statement about Louis wanting nothing more than to have a teleport machine.

What Louis wanted more than anything was to erase the following seconds; to erase the picture of Harry's facial expression from his head. The expression that was caused by Eleanor's words and included shock, disbelief and realization; and during those seconds, Louis could have sworn there was also pain.

"Wait- a- a girlfriend?" was what Harry blurted out before he managed to pull himself together and fix his face that had been covered with colours of shock and surprise. "Right, Louis' girlfriend. Sorry. Yeah, I think he has mentioned you, just slipped out of my mind. Nice to meet his _significant one_."

Louis felt how the chills went down his spine in the same pace with Harry's words. Judging by Eleanor's expression, Louis wasn't the only one who noticed Harry's weird reaction: Eleanor seemed surprised, but like Harry, she got over it soon. "Hah, bad memory?"

"Yeah, absolutely horrendous," Harry answered with a sheepish grin. Louis was stunned by Harry's ability to pull off a perfectly believable smile - no one could have suspected he was faking it.

"How come I've never heard about you Harry? Louis, mind-"

But that was when Eleanor's friend, beautiful blonde Kate, popped up out of nowhere. Her golden hair was up on a ponytail, and her lips were curled up into a smile that basically never disappeared; Louis was pretty sure he had never seen the girl without her trademark-alike, white smile.

"El, where did you- oh, hey Louis!"

Louis nodded and forced a smile onto his face. He knew it was nowhere near believable - he should take lessons from Harry on that - but at least he was _trying_ to be polite. "Hi, Kate."

But Kate's grey eyes had already passed Louis and found a new target. A target that happened to stand next to Louis with his _annoyingly great fake smile_.

"And hi... Louis' friend," Kate continued, and damn. Louis immediately recognized that gaze; the way Kate's eyes narrowed a little while his pink lips turned into a playful, flirty smile.

Louis wanted to puke.

"Harry," Harry introduced himself, offering his hand again.

Louis was definitely not supposed to care, but then Harry gave Kate a cheeky grin, and Louis forgot what he was definitely not supposed to do as he felt the rush of jealousy in his veins.

"Kate," the blonde chirped, fluttering her fake eyelashes.

Louis wanted to strangle her. There was no rational reason for that, but he wanted to strangle her. With her own, stupid, long, blonde hair.

"Yeah, well, we we're already leaving," Louis mumbled, but no one really paid attention. Instead, Kate suggested probably the worst thing Louis had ever heard.

"I was about to go and buy some popcorn, would you mind coming with me, Harry? So these two lovebirds can talk," she babbled, pointing at Louis and Eleanor. Louis would shove a _lovebird_ down the girl's throat, that was for sure.

What Louis silently answered was, _no, absolutely definitely not, we are leaving_.

What Harry answered was, "yeah, sure!"

Louis wanted to strangle Harry, too.

Maybe he could use Kate's hair to do that. Or maybe not, since that would mean Kate would get to touch Harry. For Louis, it was enough to see how Kate clearly took a step forward just to get closer to Harry, and Harry didn't really seem to mind. He just took a step away from Harry and Eleanor to follow Kate's lead for their popcorn hunt. But then the two of them left, Kate immediately starting to chat with Harry as they receded, and Louis was alone. With Eleanor.

He felt a twist in his stomach; a mixture of guilt and discomfort.

"Hanging with Liam, yeah?"

Louis swallowed at Eleanor's words, glancing around to avoid her gaze. To find some support.

"I-"

"And since when I'm just 'Eleanor'? Your friend didn't even know you have a girlfriend."

"He did, he said-"

"I know what he said," Eleanor interrupted, suddenly looking exhausted. "He's a good liar, but he was just trying to save your ass."

Louis couldn't deny it so he just hung his head, incapable to watch Eleanor to the eyes. She was right, anyway, so what was there to say? Eleanor had never done anything wrong; it was all on Louis.

"Louis... I don't want to sound like a bitch, but I'm tired," Eleanor whispered so quietly that no one else in the lobby could hear it. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm tired."

"I know," Louis said as quietly, finally looking into Eleanor's hazel eyes. "I would say sorry, but- don't think that covers it."

"You're right," Eleanor sighed; and Louis felt a strangling feeling on his throat as he saw a sheet of tears in her eyes. Seemed like the only one Louis would be strangling today was himself. He was about to step forward to hug Eleanor, but for some reason his feet didn't move; he couldn't control his body despite the screams in his head that told him to comfort the girl. His _girlfriend_.

"It doesn't cover it," Eleanor continued, now rapidly blinking her eyes to get rid of the tears. "Please, Louis, can-"

But for the second time that day, the voice of an annoying blonde interrupted Eleanor as Kate and Harry were coming back. Louis didn't know whether to be relieved or not; or actually, he knew he was relieved. He just knew he wasn't supposed to feel that way. He and Eleanor should've had more time to speak - how had Harry and Kate been so quick? - but maybe the lobby of the cinema, surrounded by dozens of people, wasn't really the place to talk. Especially not when Kate's voice was now so near Louis was able to hear the words.

"-so hot, not gonna lie, you must have a lucky girlfriend-"

Harry laughed. "No girlfriend. Single."

"Single?"

"Yeah."

"Oh," Kate answered (Louis was definitely not eavesdroping), "I mean, if you would, maybe, want to go out sometime-" Kate said nervously, and quickly Louis was in a mood for killing spree again.

For his fortune, Harry shook his head with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I don't really wanna date right now... I just recently found out that the person I'm interested in is dating, and I'm still kinda not over it."

Harry was talking to Kate, but his eyes were firmly on Louis. Louis felt sick; he wanted to not know why guilt was burning his stomach, because he was supposed to not feel that way – he had no reason to, right?

Yet he did. And he knew why.

“I think our movie will start soon,” Eleanor said, her voice still slightly shallow and high-pitched; probably not enough for others to notice, but for Louis it was. Harry and Kate had finally reached them, now standing next to Eleanor. Louis felt like he was one against three.

Kate was still looking at Harry longingly, but Harry was still staring at Louis. Louis didn’t look, but he _felt_ it, and he didn’t know whether he felt more flattered of just highly uncomfortable.

“C’mon, Kate…” Eleanor mumbled, taking Kate's arm and giving Louis an emotionless glance. “We’ll go now.”

“Yeah, alright, bye,” Louis answered awkwardly, barely daring to look at Eleanor back.

“Goodbye, Louis.”

There was something final in her voice. That was probably the moment Louis knew; maybe he didn’t realize it in that exact moment, but that was when he began to know.

The girls turned around and walked away. Louis watched after them, saw how Kate started to gossip immediately; Louis dimly wondered whether it was about Harry or Louis himself. Probably Harry; Louis was pretty sure Kate hadn’t realized yet that there was something going on between Eleanor and Louis, since she really wasn’t the sharpest person Louis had met.

Louis hated her, really.

When the girls disappeared into the crowd, Louis shyly glanced at Harry. The polite yet a little cheeky smile was long gone from the plumb lips; Harry’s face lacked any kind of emotion, the green eyes staring into the crowd blankly.

“Harry…”

That was when Harry did something Louis didn't really expect. He spun around, storming through the lobby, making his way through the people that were waiting for their movies to begin or leaving from the one they had already seen. Louis was shortly behind him though, trying to reach the boy; the crowded place was against him, unfortunately, as people were blocking his way.

“Harry! Wait, please, Harry-“

It didn’t take many seconds until Harry was out, Louis behind him. The street was already surrounded by darkness and cold – the clock was only something around seven, but the winter made it feel like the night had already taken over. Louis didn’t really have time to observe that though, because Harry didn’t stop when he was out; he kept walking, rushing along the street, nearly bumping a few people out of his way. As most central streets of London, this one was extremely crowded as always, which was a great chance for Harry to disappear. Too bad Louis wasn't taking any of that.

“Harry!” Louis shouted again, hastening his speed, then lowering his voice so no one else could hear it: “You stupid giant, please just fucking stop…”

Harry didn’t.

Louis took a deep breath and fastened his steps even more. After all, he was small (something he usually didn’t want to admit) and quick, and he was good at weaving his way through a large amount of people. He took advantage of that as he forced himself to find a way to get past the last two people separating him and Harry, and to grab Harry’s arm.

“Harry, _please_ -“

He had underestimated his powers as he actually spun Harry around with just his hand. Harry gave in, but tore his arm out of Louis’ grasp immediately. The good side was he didn't continue walking; Louis considered it as a win. At least Harry was now looking at him and listening. It wasn't really a conversation Lousi wanted to have in the middle of the busy street. They were literally in the middle of it; an old lady gave Louis an annoyed look as they were blocking the street slightly. Louis just didn't give a fuck.

“What.”

Harry was now looking straight into Louis’ eyes, and Louis had never felt himself so small in Harry’s company; he felt like the tiniest little boy, trying to seek for the words.

“I-“

“Wait, let me guess – forgot to tell me that you have a girlfriend? A _girlfriend_ , Louis?”

Louis whined, unable to answer anything. He sort of was aware of someone who bumped into him and muttered some curse words ("In the middle of street, watch out fucking pricks"), but to be completely honest, he really couldn't be bothered to pay attention to anyone else but Harry, who was now raising his voice a little.

“You just happened to forget to tell me that you have been leading me on? Is that it?”

“That’s not fair,” Louis breathed out. He regretted it immediately, though, as Harry’s eyes began to glimmer – in an absolutely bad, bad way.

“Which part isn’t fair? Let me tell you about what’s not _fair_ , Louis. What is not _fair_ is when your friend tells you he might be falling in love with you and you forget to mention you are fucking _dating_ , Louis. Dating. Taken. _Unavailable_.”

Louis kind of noticed that a few people around them were staring as they passed by, but again, he didn’t really have energy to care. All his energy was taken by the fact Harry was absolutely bloody right and he had no way to deny it or make it up. It was Louis who had screwed up and caused the pain in Harry’s eyes, a pain that Louis would have wanted to take away no matter what it took.

“You should have told me, Louis," Harry muttered in an agonized voice.

Louis was sure he was unable to speak out loud, so he just whispered: “But I did.”

Harry let out a cold, sarcastic, surprised laugh. “Oh, did you now? And when was that?”

“After-“ Louis blinked a few times before forcing the words out of his mouth, “-after we kissed.”

The emotionless cover dropped from Harry’s face; it turned pale, the realization starting to fill every cell of his face.

"Wait- fuck-"

Louis stepped carefully closer to Harry, observing the boy with his eyes. "Harry?"

"I just," Harry began, but paused to take a deep breath, "you're right, you did tell me- I just- I thought I had heard wrong, so I dismissed it, it was such a quick situation so I never thought about it again-"

Louis swallowed, carefully landing his hand to Harry's arm. "Can't blame yourself for that, really. I should have told it again, in a situation that wasn't so, you know-"

"Hectic?" Harry suggested coldly - and just like that, the confused, broken boy was gone, replaced with the emotionless shell again. "Yeah, you should have."

"I'm sorry, Harry, I-"

"Do you wanna know what's probably the worst thing? Your girlfriend still has _no idea_ , right, Louis? Do you even, like, realize what you're doing to her? Shit, Louis, you're basically _cheating_ on her-"

The sudden, overwhelming anger filled Louis' head. What the fuck. " _Cheating_? What the fuck, we never-"

"-had sex?" Harry interrupted, along with a mindless burst of laughter. "Really? That's your excuse? Sex is not everything, Louis."

Louis was absolutely fumed, which was why he ignored the voice in his head that told him Harry had a point. What Harry was saying was completely ridiculous, and Louis pride didn't let anyone offend him like that. Not even Harry. "We are _friends_ Harry, for God's sake, there's nothing else going on! Nothing but a friendship! Seriously, what the fuck, it's not my fault you kissed me-"

"A minute ago it was 'we kissed'," Harry said quietly, and it was like a kick straight into Louis' ribs. Harry's voice sounded so small, exhausted, and Louis knew he was the one to blame. He swore he was bipolar as the anger turned into empathy and guilt in just a matter of seconds.

"Harry..."

But Harry shook his head. "Louis, don't. If you really want to believe we are just friends then do, but hit me up after you get pass that state of denial. I mean, if you ever will."

With that said, in a tired and final tone, Harry turned around.

In movies, it would have been a dramatically beautiful scene, with hundreds of people walking along the streets of London, the night slowly creeping out, to be lighted up with the lights of the city. It would have been beautifully tragic how Louis was left alone in the crowd, standing still with no words to be found, the only thing in his sight being Harry’s back that was slowly drifting away.

But it was reality, and reality was never like in the movies. Nothing was fancy or dramatic, nothing was beautiful. Some people were staring, some kept on walking like nothing had even happened. Louis didn't care. Really, he cared about pretty much nothing. Everything just hurt, and at first Louis didn’t know how to take the pain away.

He figured it out, though. And that was why he somehow stumbled his way to the underground and home, his mind completely foggy. He had no idea how much time it took until he was home, but somehow he made it. He threw his jacket away - dimly noticing that Liam wasn't home - and before a weak attempt to call immediately, he abandoned his phone to the living room table. He needed some time to think.

He had a battle in his head. Right and wrong, good and bad, all that stuff. Louis was wrong and bad, that was for sure. He just kind of decided that he should go with the right and good, for once. That was when he picked his phone up.

He knew it was the right thing to do; right in every possible wrong way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so u kno i kno u kno i kinda promised in the last chapter that this chapter would have some amazingness in it bUT im sorry to disappoint u bc it didnt geez im trash but i couldnt rly fit any amazingness to this one bc it turned out to be sad why do i always end up writing sadness instead of amazingness ps sorry if there are a lot of typos or mistakes in the text its 12:30 am and i have to wake up at 7 tomorrow nice oh lord im probably gonna wake up tomorrow and remember that i updated and read this chapter and realize its absolute shit. amaze.
> 
> guys comments n kudos would be amazing bc they rly keep me going like dont be afraid to criticize if theres something that u think is not right i mean pls i want to improve myself so if something sucks pls let me know but also if u think it doesnt suck that would be nice to know too its teamwork between me n u am i right yes i am thanks
> 
> ((i am tired holy fuck im soRRY))


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Somehow Harry managed to kick himself out of his skinny jeans before pulling his blanket over them both. Louis snuggled up to him, his tiny hands clenching Harry's black t-shirt as the boy fell asleep peacefully, breathing slowing down and body relaxing against Harry's. Harry just curled his arm around Louis, nestling his chin to the top of Louis head.
> 
> Harry's last wish before falling asleep was that he could have held Louis like that for eternity."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS TAKEN AGES I KNOW IM SO SORRY. once again ive been too busy and ive felt so guilty shit sorry!!!!!
> 
> this 5.5k chapter is my apology. its a nice one. ur welcome. its dedicated to katie. lov.

It was one of the worst days of Louis' life.

Saying that was a lot, considering Louis hadn't had the easiest possible life. He'd had some shitty days, weeks if not even months. A shitty life, in general.

This day probably made it to the top 10.

The weather outside was gloomy. London was once again showing it true self with drizzle and a wind that made the raindrops feel like a needles when they hit Louis' skin. He crossed the street, getting nearly ran over by a red bus that was full of people who were trying to escape from the horrendous weather. The weather had its pros, though, because most people avoided being outside. Because of that, the streets were less full than usually.

After Louis had called Eleanor, it didn't take more than 15 minutes for him to arrive to the coffee shop. They had decided that it was better to meet face to face, and they had settled to see at the cafe. As much as Louis didn't want to have the talk at a public place, he didn't want to do it home or at Eleanor's place either, so the calm and quiet little café was the best option. It was one of Louis' favourites, warm and cosy and welcoming, and Louis often did some of his university work there with a cup of steaming latte. The owner was a friendly and short old man, Alfie, who never forgot to ask Louis how he was doing.

Neither did he forget it this time. Usually Louis' answer was something like "I'm fine, thank you, what about you Alfie?" or "Good but busy, thanks!"

Now he just stared at the floor before shrugging and shaking his head, giving Alfie a glance that probably told it all.

Alfie gave him a beautiful pastry with his latte. ("It's on the house, Louis.")

Eleanor arrived soon after Louis. She ordered a Frappuccino, as nearly always, tapping the counter with her long fingers. For Louis surprise the girl didn't seem that nervous even though Louis hadn't really told what his matter was; but maybe Eleanor knew it already. Louis was pretty sure she did when the brunette gave Louis a glance while waiting.

"Hi, Lou," Eleanor murmured softly as she finally sat down to the table with her Frappuccino. Louis gave her a weak smile.

"Hi."

For a moment they sat in silence, Eleanor staring at her coffee and Louis stirring his own. Louis knew he should have said something, probably, but he wasn't sure what to say exactly.

"So," Eleanor finally sighed, moving her eyes to Louis.

"So," Louis repeated, taking a deep breath.

"You wanted to talk."

"Yeah," Louis answered, taking a sip from his latte just to get himself a tiny extra moment to think. "Yeah. It's..."

Eleanor was staring at him intently, which led Louis into a loss of words.

He wasn't sure what to say. How to say it.

"Please, Louis. Talk."

Louis swallowed. He kept his eyes on his coffee since he couldn't face Eleanor.

"I don't really know what to say."

"Try it," Eleanor said gently.

Louis wished she hadn't been gentle. He wished she would have been bitchy so it would've been easier for Louis. He felt like he would have deserved to be treated worse - he would have deserved screaming and bitching.

"El..."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

Louis finally looked at Eleanor. He was afraid of an offended or angry expression, but she didn't give him that. No - she was genuinely asking a question from him. She wasn't pleased, of course; but she was tired, and just waiting for the truth.

"I- I don't-" Louis closed his eyes and pressed his face into his hands. "Yes."

A silence settled between the two. Louis stared his coffee, waiting for the reaction.

"I kinda figured," Eleanor eventually sighed quietly.

Louis kept his face hidden for a minute, gathering himself up. Then he raised his gaze to look at Eleanor.

The sight broke his heart. The girl was staring out of the window, her hand covering a part of her mouth; but he still saw her biting her bottom lip, her jaw trembling. Her long eyelashes were fluttering furiously, preventing the tears from falling.

"El..."

Louis didn't know whether to climb to the other side of the table to hug Eleanor or not.

He didn't.

"I... Eleanor, hell, I don't know what to say..."

Eleanor's hazel eyes found Louis, shining with the tears that still didn't flow down her cheeks.

"I, kinda, knew this was about to happen, but- why?"

Louis knew Eleanor deserved the truth. The thing was, he wasn't ready for the truth himself; the voices still hadn't shut up, and he didn't want to give in to them. He couldn't. He couldn't let the voices win now that they were mocking him and celebrating his loss.

There were many clichés in his head - and after all, clichés were clichés for a reason. It's not you, it's me. (Because it was definitely Louis, Eleanor had been nothing but great.) It's just time for me to move on. (Because Louis currently felt stuck.) I think I like you rather as a friend than a girlfriend. (Because Louis had started to accept the facts.)

Louis just felt like those lines that had been heard for thousand times weren't good enough.

"Eleanor- I wish, I really wish I wouldn't have to do this, you have no idea how much I _wish_ we could work out, but it's that- fuck, I do _love_ you, it's just that-"

"-you're not _in love_ with me?" Eleanor suggested weakly.

Louis felt a lump in his throat, forcing himself to mumble: "I'm sorry."

The first and the only tear fell down Eleanor's eyes, bringing a little bit of her eyeliner with it. "I am, too."

They spent several minutes just looking at each other. It was like they were trying to process the fact that their two-years-long relationship was now over. With just one meet up and a couple of sentences.  
And one curly-haired boy who had made Louis question everything he had never had the courage to question before.

"I think," Eleanor begun after a while, pausing to weight her words, "I think we should try to stay as friends. I mean, everyone always says that, and I don't mean we should force it, but you were never only my boyfriend, but my best friend too, and-"

Eleanor's words were getting rushed and her voice emotional, and Louis decided to interrupt her before the girl would have started crying.

"Of course, El. You will always be my friend, whether you wanted it or not," he said gently, with a ghost of a smile on his face.

Eleanor let out a broken laugh, but she smiled a little too, despite of the few tears on her cheeks. "Can't get rid of you even when you break up with me, huh?"

"Sorry, love," Louis grinned apologetically.

Their smiles faded away quickly, though. Eleanor was playing with her bracelets, and Louis knew it was just an excuse for her to not look at Louis.

"I always thought we would be, like, forever. That we had a forever thing going on," she whispered eventually. Louis felt a clench of guilt in his gut, a clench that had become so familiar for him lately.

"I just- I need to process this, I think- I think I need to go now..."

Louis wished he could've just nodded, but he had to force his voice out as she still wasn't looking at him. "Yeah, sure, of course-"

Eleanor threw her tiny leather jacket onto her shoulders, adjusted her hair a little and dug out a little mirror to check out her makeup. With a fee sweeps of her delicate fingers the marks of tears were gone.  
She didn't even glance at Louis. It made him feel horrible; he knew he probably deserved to feel horrible, but he would have hoped for some other kind of reaction. A pure anger would have been better than the emotionless cover Eleanor now gave him.

"I guess- well, I don't really know what to say," Eleanor murmured as she got up. "See you? Goodbye?"

Louis didn't know it either.

"Bye, El."

Eleanor nodded, only giving a quick look at Louis, and then she walked out of the shop, escaping to the rain that had turned from drizzle into a pouring rain.

The weather might have been gloomy, but it was nothing compared to Louis' mind.

  
   
***

  
 A cold breath of wind invaded the room from the window that was slightly open. The cold was faced by a warm, nearly stuffy air that suffocated the fresh breeze immediately.

The living room was a mess. That was mostly caused by the furniture that were placed randomly; it wasn't the best idea to leave a huge ass TV in the middle of the room, but for some reason that misplacement had been done. Not to mention the fact the sofa wasn't placed well either, especially when it came to watching TV; for some reason the ugly, green sofa wasn't facing the TV, but a blank wall.

Logic.

That didn't prevent Harry Styles from watching the TV, though. He had ripped the ugly (Harry really, _really_ didn't appreciate the looks of the stupid sofa) cushions to the floor, right before the TV. He had thrown himself onto the pile of cushions for the movie marathon he was about to have. By thrown, he meant literally thrown; as it happened to be, Harry wasn't always the most glorious person when it came to moving in general, and somehow he had managed to trip right before the pile of pillows which had concluded to him falling there. Harry blamed his ridiculously long legs for that. At the moment, though, he was feeling perfectly comfortable under his cozy and soft blanket, the cushions giving him a great place to rest with a romantic comedy playing on the TV.

After the very unsuccessful movie night with Louis, Harry really needed the romantic comedy and some relaxing time. He wasn't one to get easily mad, but he had realized that Louis had a power to get him angry. Louis' rare abilities also included making Harry feel hurt and let down. It was ridiculous how Harry, the worlds calmest and the most forgiving person, had gotten angry at the same boy for two times in a row.

Apparently, Louis just had the power.

It was different this time, though. Harry wasn't only mad at Louis, but also at his very own self. Because technically, Louis _had_ told Harry about his girlfriend, whether it was in an inconvenient situation or not. Harry had sort of heard it, now that he looked back to the situation; it had just been a moment of rush and a failed judgment of mishearing.

The whole situation was messed up, and Harry needed an overdose of Jennifer Aniston's romantic films to get through it (although Harry thought that Jennifer was overused in romantic comedies, and he usually rather kept looking for fresh faces, now was the time for safe and sound, good old Jennifer).

Gladly Harry's roommate was gone, because the guy - Max - didn't really appreciate romantic comedies. Harry wondered why. Either way, it gave Harry a great chance just to enjoy his very own company and the night that was already beginning to turn into a morning.

Sleeping was overrated, anyway.

Despite of the previous statement, Harry's eyes were starting to droop as he got more and more sleepy. Conveniently, the current film was about to end (Jennifer's character was just about to get back to his man after the moment of break-up and live happily ever after - shocker).

But just before the end credits were about to begin, Harry heard a hesitant knock at the door.

At first Harry thought he hadn't heard correctly. Who would have been at the door in the middle of night? Or more accurately, it was 3:23 AM, as Harry checked from his phone screen. Max never came home after a bar night; he always, _always_ found a girl to hook up with and it was Max's style to rather go to "yours" instead of "mine".

But the second knock revealed that Harry had heard right. The knock was still slightly hesitant, but stronger than the first one. For a second Harry contemplated if it was okay to pretend he was sleeping and not open the door, but once again his curiosity took over him, and he managed to get up and stumble to the door.

He hesitated for a moment before opening the clock. It could have been anyone; the area where the flat was at wasn't a very bad one, but neither was it an extremely good and safe.

Harry just decided to rely on the assumption that no thief would knock as carefully and gently as the person at the door; and opened the door.

His first thought was _how the fucking wasted are you, Louis._

That thought was long gone quickly though, as the shock took over - Louis was the last person Harry had expected, but there the boy was, looking completely lost and completely, _completely_ drunk.

"Louis? What the-"

"Harry," Louis whimpered, in a voice that was so pathetic and raspy, yet even higher than normally. If Harry hadn't been still a little mad, he would have started crying over how absolutely bloody _endearing_ Louis was with his tiny voice and fluffy and messy hair and red-ish, glassy eyes.

"What- what are you doing here? _How_ are you here?" Harry mumbled, and he tried to keep it neutral, but he couldn't keep the fact he was surprised out of his voice.

"I'm," Louis frowned, like he was trying to concentrate. "I'm not. I'm not sure."

The boy was clearly freezing, as Harry now noticed. For some reason Louis only had a denim jacket and a t-shirt, even though the night would have definitely required a thick and warm coat.

"Louis, you're freezing..." Harry shook his head, "come in, let's find you something warmer," Harry murmured gently, because how could he not. Louis was an absolute mess, but in a very adorable way, and Harry's first instinct was to take care of him with gentleness. Mad or not.

"Harry, wait, I think- I need to-"

"Shh, come in."

"'Kay," Louis breathed after a moment of serious contemplating ( _he was so_ goddamn _cute_ , Harry thought), and stumbled in. His steps were a little unstable, and Harry just wanted to grab him and carry him to sleep.

He didn't, though. Harry had his pride.

It was the first time Louis had ever been to Harry's house. For a moment Harry felt embarrassed about the messy condition of the flat, but then he realized that Louis probably wasn't sober enough to care.

Despite that Harry left Louis out of his sight for a moment to try to quickly clean up the worst mess out of the living room. He piled some dishes that were taking all of the living room table and threw some bits of trash away.

When he turned around to look for Louis, he found out the boy had already drifted closer.

So much closer Harry inhaled to quickly as he was taken by a surprise.

Louis wasn't looking at Harry, though; his gaze was headed past Harry, his eyes unfocused and unclear.

"Louis?" Harry asked carefully, observing the boy. Louis was so close Harry could smell him; he nearly felt Louis' breath.

"What would happen if a dog drank a bottle of vodka," Louis slurred, putting his hand onto Harry's shoulder. Harry felt chills going down on his spine because of Louis' touch, but he tried to ignore it.

"What are you-"

"-on? Or maybe, uh, what am I doing? Exactly," Louis muttered unclearly. He still wasn't looking at Harry; his eyes were steadily on something behind Harry's shoulder. What he said made no sense; but then again, Harry thought, it probably made sense to Louis and his intoxicated mind.

"What am I doing, Harry?"

It wasn't really a question. Or at least it didn't seem like it, so Harry ignored it and mumbled even slightly nervously: "Louis, you're so drunk, you should just go home, I can-"

"I, Harry, I left her. Because you, you piece of shit, are, um, messing with my h- head. I think I'm," Louis let out a giggle, "shit. I like you. Harry, I /like/ you."

Harry wasn't able to breathe. "Louis- you're drunk-"

"Stop saying that, I know, I maybe- maybe I am a little, doesn't really change anything though."

Harry inhaled deeply. "What do you- when you said- did you really mean-"

The blue eyes finally found the green ones, and there was determination Harry had never seen before. Harry didn't know what it meant, but Louis seemed like he was sure about something.

"Did I leave her? Yeah. Did I- do I mean it when I say I," Louis hiccupped, "like you? Ye-ah."

"Louis," Harry whispered, because fuck, Louis had taken a step closer, and he smelled like vodka and sweat and some cheap cologne and so _Louis_ , "you're so wasted, you don't probably even know what you're saying... you should go home..."

"Harry," Louis murmured. Harry felt Louis' finger on his lips, telling Harry to be quiet. The finger felt cool on Harry's warm lips, making Harry flinch.  "I'm drunk. Not drugged."

"There's no difference," Harry answered, but he barely managed to get it out under his breath.

"Shush," Louis hissed; his tanned face had turned into a confident smirk. Harry had already forgotten everything else. There was nothing around him; there was just Louis, incredibly close, so close his warm breath tickled Harry's collarbones due to the height difference, the index finger still on Harry's lips, the other hand slowly sliding from Harry's shoulder onto his chest.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Louis whined, glancing at Harry's lips. "But it's not because I'm, um, drunk. It's because you, Harry Fucking Gigantic Gentle-" Louis slurred, frowning like trying to find the words, "-Gentle Giant Styles, you fucking ruin me."

Harry shuddered. "That's what a drunk person would say, that it's not because you’re dru-"

Apparently, Louis wasn't patient enough to let Harry finish.

"Will you kiss me?"

It came out as just a whisper against Harry's collarbones and bird tattoos.

"Wh- what-"

"I won't push you away this time," Louis assured, like it was the biggest problem, like it was the only thing that mattered. "I won't, Harry, I promise-"

Harry cut Louis off - by crashing his lips against Louis'.

There was no hesitation. Harry heard Louis' gasp; he _felt_ it too, the tiny rush of air ticking his lips like soft feathers. Harry's large hands cupped Louis' face, desperately pulling Louis closer, afraid to let the gorgeous face go. Harry felt how Louis' hand slid down Harry's torso, the other hand trying to feel all of Harry - or that was how it felt like as Louis' hand slid on Harry's shoulder and Harry's chest and Harry's neck and Harry's bicep and basically every body part it could reach.

Louis' lips were soft warm, moving against Harry's in a perfect symphony. It didn't take long until Louis thin lips parted and Harry felt an exploring tongue on his lips; Louis wasn't forcing Harry's lips open yet, though, as his teeth suddenly bit into Harry's lower lip. The sudden sharp and slight pain made Harry moan; it came out uncontrollably and way more obscene than it should have, but Harry couldn't help it. His hands slowly slid down Louis cheeks, to his neck; the other one stayed there, keeping Louis head in place, but the other kept going down the obscene curve of Louis back.

Louis' teeth pulled Harry's lip softly, and as Harry opened his eyes he was faced by a pair of icy eyes, the blue somehow so warm and so passionate. The pupils were blown big, lust glimmering from with the force of thousand stars.

"Louis..." Harry groaned under his breath, unable to keep it for himself. Louis just giggled at that; the giggles coming out as breathless pants, the teeth still dug into Harry's bottom lip. The breathes of Louis' laugh caused tingles all over Harry's body, like millions of tiny needles awakening his every sense.

For a second Louis let Harry's lip go; but after that tiny moment of time the teeth were replaced by Louis’ wet tongue. It slid along Harry's lower lip, curiously examining, before dipping in between Harry's already swollen lips. Harry's eyes fluttered closed and his mouth dropped slightly open; just enough for Louis' tongue lick itself in.

There was no such thing as battling of dominance. There was just Louis tongue, taking the control, showing Harry's willing tongue how to join the dance. Harry felt the rush of blood on his cheeks, he felt his whole face getting flustered; Louis just laughed to the kiss, his tongue tracing over Harry's.

At some point Harry felt pressure as Louis begun walking forward, forcing Harry to back up as well.

"Where's your bedroom?" Louis breathed to the kiss. The breath was hot, and Harry swallowed it with a gasp.

"Louis..."

"Which room is it?" Louis sighed, not letting any chance for protests.

Harry mumbled incoherently something about the room on the right, which made Louis laugh breathlessly. Harry loved Louis' laugh - especially when he felt it on his lips.

Somehow they managed to get to the room. Harry nearly stumbled to his feet again, though - Louis just laughed, pulled up Harry who had bended down slightly, and kissed him messily, teeth clacking together, the breathes of his laugh and the not-so-sensual whisper "you're so bloody clumsy to have the last name Styles" invading Harry's mouth.

Louis literally clung to Harry like his life depended on it - Harry dimly thought that at least Louis' balance probably _did_ depend on it.

  
"Want you," Louis moaned hotly while pushing Harry against the wall, and fuck. Harry was sure he was about to faint right at that second.

"Louis- I can't- you're _so_ drunk-" Harry tried to whimper. He felt bad enough over making out with the boy that could possibly even not be able to remember the night in the next morning.

"Please... Harry..." Louis pleaded, the words coming out as gasps, his lips moving from Harry's lips to Harry's jaw line, nipping and tracing the sharp edge of it.

"Shit, Louis," Harry panted, pressing his eyes closed. A whimper escaped his lips as Louis lips found his neck and sucked there slightly. "I can't, I can't... you'd regret it..."

"No," Louis protested, his breath hot and damp against Harry's neck, "no, Harry, I won't-"

As much as Harry tried to ignore it, he felt Louis' growing bulge against his thigh, and if that wasn't a turn on, then what was? Harry moaned, trying to keep his thoughts straight.

"Louis, no, not now-"

"Har-ry," Louis moaned, and Harry could've sworn the smaller boy grinded against him. Harry had no time to think about it, though, as Louis' small hands slid into Harry's hair, pulling Harry to yet another, hot and willing and _needy_ kiss.

"I _want_ you," Louis breathed into Harry's open mouth, the breath hitching. And the last buck of Louis hips was too much for Harry to handle.

The younger boy grabbed Louis by his biceps, turning them around; pushing Louis' back against the wall, towering him with his height. "I won't- I can't, Louis," Harry groaned, pecking a hastened kiss to Louis swollen lips, "but let me- let me help you..."

"Harry," Louis whimpered; Harry couldn't help kissing him for the last time, hot and quick and wet, tongues dancing together forcefully.

"Gonna help you," Harry repeated breathlessly; and slowly dropped onto his knees.

Louis' hands had never left Harry's hair; they kept playing with the strands as Harry faced the stretch of Louis' jeans. Harry bit his lip, exhaling shakily at the sight: it looked nearly painful, the way Louis' dick was suppressed in the skinny jeans.

"Harry, please," was the whimper that made Harry get out of his trance. Quickly he struggled to open Louis belt, his fingers shaking. Louis moaned lowly when Harry's fingers traced over the aggressive bulge while opening the zipper.

The jeans were quickly gone. While pulling them down, Harry kissed down Louis thigh; there was no way he could have resisted the creamy skin and the curvy shape of Louis thighs, the shape Harry had always admired but never been able to touch.

It was clumsy when Louis stepped out of the jeans. He stumbled, cursing and balancing himself by grabbing Harry's shoulder; Harry just laughed gently, finding Louis' clumsiness absolutely endearing, despite the fact Louis mumbled something unclear about being offended.

Harry's laughter didn't last for long though, as Harry took a look at Louis briefs. His mouth felt suddenly dry.

The thin fabric revealed the lines of a throbbing cock. It was nicely curving slightly to right, stretching the briefs with its thickness. Harry was mesmerized by the sight, staring for a moment before slowly leaning in and tracing his lips along the curve through the fabric, giving it a tiny lick of tongue when reaching Louis' tip.

"Stop that - fucking - teasing," Louis cursed under his breath, his hand clenching into Harry's hair. Harry chuckled quietly, giving Louis' dick one last kiss through the fabric before slipping his fingers under the waistband of Louis' black boxers.

When Harry finally managed to freeze Louis' length, the older boy cussed as his dick stood up against his belly, lying there thick and heavy, begging to be touched. Harry was out of breath just by the sight; dicks were never exactly beautiful, but it was safe to say that Louis had the nicest one he had ever seen. Not very long, but gorgeously thick, in a beautiful shade of pink.

After rushing to get rid of the boxers (which included another episode of Louis stumbling when trying to step out of the pants, but this time Harry didn't laugh as he was too turned on to think anything but getting Louis into his mouth) Louis finally leaned to the wall, moaning curses and pleas. Harry glanced at the boys face; Louis already looked destroyed, eyes tightly shut and obscenely red lips swollen and wet, the tan skin covered in a thin sheet of sweat.

Again, Harry leaned over Louis cock, deliberately breathing on it yet not touching. It seemed to make Louis insane; smugly Harry listened as Louis' breathing hitched, a high "please" falling down from the thin lips.

Harry could've gotten used to it, really. Having Louis as a begging mess in his hands.

He grabbed the base of Louis cock gently, making Louis flinch. His eyes were enjoying the slight bubble of pre-cum on the tip, making Harry grin because _he_ had caused it, _he_ was the reason Louis was needing to be taken care of; and with that thought he pressed a kiss onto the head of Louis' gorgeous dick.

Louis made an inhuman voice, pulling Harry's hair slightly. Harry grinned as he let his tongue flick over the slit quickly, deliberately teasing Louis. He caressed the tip with his lips and tongue for a while, licking and teasing, making Louis murmur his name incoherently. Louis' cock was warm and so hard, twitching every now and then under Harry's patient mouth.

Eventually, Louis wasn't able to take it anymore.

"Fuck - oh, Harry - fucking, just, _please_."

Louis' raspy beg struck straight into Harry's dick that was already aching half-hard in his pants. It made Harry give up on teasing as he let the tip of Louis slide into his mouth. For Louis misfortune, Harry was still feeling like a tease. He slowly bopped a few times, making Louis sob his name, before pulling away again.

"Fuck, you fucking-"

Louis' curses were cut off soon though, as Harry's tongue found its way to the base of Louis cock, licking up on the sensitive underside, tracing the thick vein. The shaky, broken moan Louis let out was probably the most satisfying thing Harry had ever heard in his life.

He gave Louis a couple of lazy pumps with his hand - not forgetting to admire how his large palm fit perfectly around Louis' thickness - before taking him into his mouth again, wrapping his full, pink lips around the head of Louis' dick.

Louis' hand was still in Harry's hair, guiding Harry as he started to bop. Slowly at first, his mouth getting used to the stretch of Louis. Louis let out quiet sighs and moans along each bop.

"So good, Harry, so - oh - so good for me, yeah, so good for my cock-" Louis praised under his breath, barely getting the high-pitched voice out.

It just encouraged Harry as he started to pick up the pace, at the same time trying to get deeper down Louis' length on each bop. It was rewarded by a suffocated cry from Louis; Harry hummed proudly on Louis' cock.

Eventually, Harry felt his mouth starting to get more relaxed, deciding that his throat would be good enough to go. He let Louis' cock slip out of his mouth for a moment, licking his lips and placing his hands on his thighs.

Louis clearly wasn't pleased with the fact there was no warm mouth around him, glancing down. He seemed to get the hint though as Harry stared back at him with his eyes big and teary, mouth willingly open.

"You- sure?" Louis croaked, his hand caressing Harry's hair, strands running through Louis fingers. Harry nodded, exhaling shakily.

Louis used his hand to guide his cock to Harry's lips. Harry took it nearly needy, allowing Louis to slowly thrust in. It was satisfying to have the stretch back in his mouth; to know that Louis got satisfied by it. That was what always got Harry off - pleasing the others, knowing that he filled their needs and made them feel good.

Louis' hands were holding Harry's hair tightly as he picked up a slow pace. Harry tried to keep his throat relaxed as Louis' thrust got deeper, eventually reaching the hilt of Harry's throat. The tears swelled in Harry's eyes as he fought the gag reflect; he concentrated on the pleasure that the burn in his throat gave him.

"Harry - oh, fuck-"

Harry knew Louis was close; the hitch of his breath and the thrusts that were getting out of control; the steady pace long gone. At one point, when Louis was deep down in Harry’s throat, Louis’ hands kept him there for a while; Louis seemed to admire how Harry’s throat spasmed around him, how tears flowed down Harry’s cheeks as he struggled to not gag. After a tiny moment Louis let Harry bop up again, accompanied with a shaky groan.

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis breathed shakily, “so good. So – oh – bloody fantastic, aren’t you.”

Harry replied by swallowing around him. It was what threw Louis over the edge – the blue eyes rolled up, closing at the process, and the boy cummed deep into Harry’s throat, Harry's name coming out as an obscene cry.

Harry swallowed it all, just in time to catch Louis who basically collapsed into his arms. The boy was a mess, an exhausted, satisfied and intoxicated mess, still slightly breathless. Louis’ eyes were drooping as he nestled into Harry.

“Harry… ‘M so… tired…” was what Harry got out of Louis’ unclear mumbling. Harry couldn’t help smiling as Louis clung to his shirt, pressing his face to Harry’s chest like a sleepy child.

The bit of gym training Harry had done god finally paid off, as he picked himself and Louis up, carrying the boy for the bed that was about one meter away. Louis was already dead weight on his arms, barely conscious. For once Harry was glad he hadn't made his bed; it was easy to place Louis there and climb next to him. Harry knew he probably should have been worried about the morning, but he just literally couldn't bring himself to care. He had Louis next to him, clinging to his shirt for his dear life, dozing off, and Harry wanted to seize the moment with his every sense.

Somehow Harry managed to kick himself out of his skinny jeans before pulling his blanket over them both. Louis snuggled up to him, his tiny hands clenching Harry's black t-shirt as the boy fell asleep peacefully, breathing slowing down and body relaxing against Harry's. Harry just curled his arm around Louis, nestling his chin to the top of Louis head.

Harry's last wish before falling asleep was that he could have held Louis like that for eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao what if i told u ive never written smut before. also i kinda rly have a thing for blowjobs.
> 
> pls tell me ur honest opinion throw all the shit at me, if u hate it pls tell me why, and if u like it id also like to know that and u can like leave a kudos if u want pls and thanks


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The silence was beautiful. It wasn't just a silence; it was Louis breathing, and coffee spilling, and Harry slurping. It was traffic making some noise outside the house and birds chirping near the window. It was the breath of air that Louis' eyelashes made every time Louis blinked.
> 
> Well, Harry didn't really hear that sound, but he was sure it existed. It had to, since Louis' eyelashes were so long and thick and pretty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii thanks for amazing comments for the last chapter it always makes me smile big when people comment but yea lets get this going bc last chapter had bit of a cliffhanger lmao drama time

It was warm and safe.

That was the first thing that hit Louis' conscious as his mind began to arrive the state of half-awakeness. Everything was calm and peaceful, everything was so _right_.

Louis hummed, still half asleep, nudging his nose to something hard yet soft that was radiating heat, smelling better than any scent he had ever smelled. Vanilla candles mixed with something unique that Louis really couldn’t name.

A peak of a memory fought its way through his brain cells, to his conscious. He remembered hotness, a burning passion that had eventually turned into gentle softness. They were just feelings, flashing colours in his mind, fading emotions. Nothing touchable, nothing to hold onto – just chills on his spine.

But slowly his mind started to function better, becoming more and more aware. He started to become aware of the strong arms holding him, strong arms that were making him feel safe. He started to become aware of the slow breaths in his hair, warming and ticking slightly. He started to become aware of the chest he had pressed his face to, slowly raising in the same pace with the breathing in Louis' hair.

At the same time the pulsing headache began to remind him of its existence. It was a beating drum stick inside his head, using Louis’ skull as the drum. Louis moaned quietly, his mind trying to seek the reason for the banging pain. Little by little his memory brought him flashbacks from the last night.

His hands running through incredibly soft and curly hair. His tongue licking their way through the pink, plumb lips. His own, ruined voice whispering the familiar name. Long fingers tracing his length while opening the zipper, making him go insane. The moment of pleasure when he finally got the pressure of sucking heat around him.

Then it all came crashing together, into one person.

_Harry._

Louis' eyes opened in a speed of light. In a matter of second he was wide awake; his heart racing like after a football game.

All he saw was the black fabric of Harry's t-shirt, calmly moving along Harry's breathing. Suddenly the safe feeling of Harry’s arms was placed by the feeling of being trapped. It was like he had a weight on his chest all of a sudden, making it impossible for him to breathe. Harry’s scent felt like toxic for his lungs. Harry’s warmth became too much; it was burning Louis’ every cell as his skin started to feel tingly in a way that was nowhere near good.

Overwhelmed wasn't a strong enough word as Louis felt the panic in his chest. He needed to get out; he needed to get out to get his head clear, he needed to get out so he could breathe. The voices in his head were louder than ever, screaming in a terrifying harmony, making sure none of the mocks were left out. Every line, every sentence. He heard them all, over and over again. The only thought in Louis’ head was _out, need to get out_.

He managed to struggle himself out of the strong arms without waking Harry. It was a miracle he was able so succeed as all he felt was a panic, a claustrophobic mess starting to build up. It took all his willpower to not freak out and wake Harry during the process of getting up; but somehow he was out, rushing through the room, picking his briefs and jeans as he went.  
It wasn't warm and safe anymore.  
 

  
***  
 

  
Harry stretched his arms, letting out a whine as his tired muscles protested by clenching hurtfully. His mind told him to wake up, and he followed the suggestion, yawning after the little stretching session.  
He turned onto his back then, opening his eyes. The familiar white ceiling welcomed him to the new day. Sometimes Harry wondered if he should have decorated the ceiling somehow, since the blank white was such a boring way to start the day. Harry preferred colours and shapes. But then again, the blank white was like an empty paper; it was a new start, a chance to build a whole new day right from the beginning. Harry liked the metaphor. (It was also a great excuse to be lazy and not do anything to the ceiling.)

Harry’s brain reminded him about something. He was barely awake but he still frowned as he tried to catch the thought; and soon his dream from last night came back to him.

Harry groaned and closed his eyes. It wasn't the first time he had dreamed about intimate things with Louis - he wasn't going to lie - but the dream that he was now memorizing felt so, _so_ real, like it had actually-

Harry sat up like he had just gotten an electric shock. In that moment he realized it hadn't been just a dream – it was a very real and true picture of the actual event last night.  
The quick look around showed him that the things he had knocked out of his night stand last night were still on the floor. His skinny jeans were still in the bed; he remembered how he hadn't been able to throw them to the floor. His sore throat was telling a tale of its own as the feeling of stretch in his mouth came back at him.

What was missing though, was the boy that had been next to him as he had fallen asleep.

Harry glanced around again. Not only was Louis gone, but so were his jeans and his briefs. Hopelessly he glanced at the empty place next to him; the place he had lied Louis just a few hours ago. A quick touch of Harry’s hand told that wasn’t warm anymore. Harry felt a cold pierce in his belly as he threw the blanket off his feet, making his way to the corner of the bed.

The floor was cold beneath his feet as he stood up, taking a few steps towards the wall Louis had been pushed to last night. He swallowed as the taste of Louis mouth came back from the depths of his mind; he nearly felt Louis' dominating tongue against his. And Louis' tongue wasn't the only thing he memorized as his throat reminded of its soreness. It was suddenly hard to breathe as Harry memorized the making out session; it came back at him so crystal clear and sharp, like he could have experienced it all again just by closing his eyes.

But Louis had left.

Emptiness filled Harry's mind and body slowly. It consumed his insides, it was like the space was filled with nothing. He had expected pain or anger, but he just felt empty. Blank. Numb.

With that, he got out of the room. The living room was bathing in sunlight which he found ironic; how could such an ugly day be so, so beautiful? That was what Harry wondered as he walked through the living room, on a mission to get coffee to make him feel better. Coffee with something stronger. He wondered if the vodka he had hidden from Max was still behind the cereal box.

Harry frowned. He was craving for coffee; that was for sure. He just wasn't convinced he was craving for it _so bad_ that his mind would play tricks with him; but clearly, his desperate need for coffee made him hallucinate. He almost smelled the scent of fresh coffee, flowing out of the kitchen.

He took the last few steps before the kitchen, and was taken by a surprise; because he surely hadn't expected what he saw.

"I, uh... it made it like ten minutes ago... it can be, uh, cooled down already, I hope it's not though, I think I, um, owe you one?"

The cup of coffee was on the corner of the kitchen table, and Louis was sitting on the other side. He barely looked at Harry as he spoke unsurely, shame in his voice. He looked so, so small, hair ruffled and eyes slightly red.

“I think- I hope it’s warm, I think your – uh – throat might be. Sore.”

Somehow Louis had managed to pick Harry's favourite cup – big white one with baby pink hearts on it – Harry noticed dimly. He just really didn't pay attention because he was staring at Louis, his mouth dropped slightly open.

"Louis?"

Louis looked like he was squirming under Harry's gaze, trying to make himself look as tiny as possible. "Yeah, that's- that's my name, I think."

In some other situation Harry would have probably laughed at that. Not because it was funny - it wasn't - but because it was Louis who had said it. Harry usually laughed at things Louis said.

Now he just couldn't do anything but glare.

The numbness, though, was slowly creeping away. The warmth was starting to fill Harry again; the warmth he had felt when he had carried Louis to the bed just a few hours ago.

"You're still here."

It was quite unnecessary to state the obvious fact, but.

"Yeah, seems so," Louis murmured back, biting his bottom lip. "I hope that's okay, though..?"

Harry couldn't breathe. "Of course, I just- sorry. Thought you left."

There was a tiny bit of gloomy laughter on Louis' lips. "Because I'm a dick who always lashes out?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "no, I didn't mean it like that-"

"Yes you did." Louis leaned to the back of the chair, sighing. He was disappointed, but not in Harry - his face gave out the fact he was disappointed in his very own self.

"Yeah," Harry eventually admitted, finally taking a few steps towards the table.

He pulled the chair further from the table and sat down to it. It was the chair that was closest to his favourite, now coffee-filled cup. The coffee had milk; Harry wondered if Louis had remembered that Harry preferred his coffee with milk and a tea spoon of sugar.

"I deserve it, though," Louis said. "Being called a dick who keeps lashing out."

Harry considered it for a moment. But then, Louis _had_ called him by names, hidden some important facts from him and run away more than once. "Yeah."

Louis hair was shining prettily in the sun, Harry noticed as they let the silence to surround the flat. The kitchen looked good with Louis. Louis looked good with the kitchen.

Harry could have gotten used to the collaboration.

The cup felt warm in Harry's hands as he raised it onto his lips. The quick taste of the coffee told him that it had a little bit of sugar; he was stunned as he found out Louis really _had_ remembered how Harry liked his coffee.

"It's cold, right?"

Harry winced. "Yeah."

Louis sighed, pouting in frustration. Maybe it was important to him to make good coffee for Harry; Harry felt honoured.

"I should make you a new one."

Harry shook his head. He felt emotionally attached to this coffee. It made no sense, but then again, Harry usually didn't. And he didn’t mind cooler coffee. At least he didn’t burn his mouth.

The silence was beautiful. It wasn't just a silence; it was Louis breathing, and coffee spilling, and Harry slurping. It was traffic making some noise outside the house and birds chirping near the window. It was the breath of air that Louis' eyelashes made every time Louis blinked.

Well, Harry didn't really _hear_ that sound, but he was sure it existed. It had to, since Louis' eyelashes were so long and thick and pretty.

Harry liked silences.

What he liked more was Louis' voice. He _especially_ liked Louis' voice when it said his name. That's why he wasn't mad at Louis for interrupting the beautiful silence.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

Harry must have said "yeah" gazillion times already.

"I don't want to be a dick who keeps lashing out. I just... don't know how to not be."

Harry landed the cup onto the table. Louis was beautiful when he was looking insecure, and that was exactly what he was doing right now. His gorgeous face was full of self-doubt, and Harry wanted to kiss it away.

"Is there, like," Harry wanted to settle his words right, "a reason for that?"

"Yeah, well, uh - it's complicated."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, in a voice full of curiosity and adoration. He just couldn't keep the adoration away.

Louis suddenly looked so tiny, so fragile. A baby bird considering whether to try to fly for the first time; afraid to try, afraid to fall.

"I- I can't, it's not, I can't-"

The wings just didn't always carry.

"Louis, shh, it's okay- I get it, you can't."

Maybe the wet shine Harry saw reflecting from Louis eyes was just the sun. Harry never found out because Louis looked away, the blue eyes escaping from Harry's green.

Louis had such a beautiful profile. Straight and cute nose, gorgeous cheekbones, round eyebrows. Harry tried to not concentrate on that.

"But Louis... I can try to help you to _can_. You just need to let me."

Harry lost the sight of Louis' profile as Louis faced him again.

"You can't" was the tiny whisper of an answer, broken and fragile.

Harry felt like his heart needed stiches.

"I can try. If nothing else, I can be there as you learn to _can_ all by yourself," Harry whispered back.

Sadness reflected from Louis’ eyes even though his lips tried to cover it with a smile. “But I’m kinda fucked up, Harry.”

Harry could have denied it. He could have answered _no, you’re not_ with a pile of reasons to prove his point. He could have said _no, you’re wrong_ with a description of how everyone was different and had their difficulties. He could have answered _don’t say that_ with a million things that made Louis so wonderful.

But he said none of those things. Instead, he gave Louis a gentle smile: “Yeah, but I don’t mind.”

The slight quirk of Louis brows showed the fact he wasn’t expecting the answer. For a second Harry was afraid that he had said the wrong thing, that he had damaged the wings that were already a little broken; but then a tiny smile quirked up the corners of Louis’ mouth, began to dance on Louis’ lips.

"Yeah?" Louis croaked. Even his croak was gorgeous.

"Yeah," Harry smiled, and got up.

The smile never left his face as he got around the table.

There was a frightened look in the little bird's blue eyes as Harry cupped his cheeks into his large hands, leaning down slowly. Despite of the fear Louis never pulled away. Harry breathed onto his lips a few times, giving Louis every chance to get away, to run. But Louis never did. The blue eyes were terrified, but they closed as Harry finally leaned in the last few inches and intertwined their lips.

It was sweet and soft. Nothing like their previous kisses; nothing sexy or hot, nothing that had anything to do with lust. (Harry realized they basically had only kissed twice; first one at the party with a drunken sensation, and second time last night – it was just one kiss basically as their lips had never really left each other.) Now there was just sweetness and promise, gentle touches of lips, tiny movements that were hesitant yet so sure.

It was the best kiss of Harry's life. It was the sunlight embracing them, it was the aroma of coffee flowing around them, it was the birds quietly accompanying them. It was feathers and sugar and coffee and candyfloss. It was simple - just two lips slowly exploring each other, becoming one with a beautiful taste of promise.

When Harry pulled slightly back, opening his eyes again and smiling with his whole being, the shining sunrays had started to slowly fall down Louis' cheeks. Harry tasted the saltiness of them on his lips; it was the contrast for the sweetness of the kiss.

But Louis was smiling nonetheless. There was fear and tears in the blue, but Louis' lips and soul were smiling.

And in that moment, Harry thought he was in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MUCH FLUFF I WANT TO DIE
> 
> i know this ones a short one im sorry it just turned out this way!! pls pls pls comment and if u dont like then please let me know why like honestly dont be afraid to criticize and also if u for some reason like then pls let me know that too with a comment or a kudos pls and thank lov u


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I hate you," Louis whispered so quietly only Harry could hear it.
> 
> The thing was, the tone of Louis' whisper was everything but hateful. It was gentle and attached, radiating fondness, whispering things without words. Harry's heart was about to burst from the affection and happiness - and he returned the tone, with an endearing whisper.
> 
> "I hate you too, Lou."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry pls dont kill me???? i literally have had no time to update ive barely had time to breathe and this chapter was basically written on my phone during bus drives or movie nights with friends bc i havent been able to be on computer so pls forgive me?? is anyone even here anymore??? do u remember me??? im sorry??????? question mark????????????

"Dammit, Louis. One day I'm gonna fucking kill you for disappearing."

"I know, geez, sorry Zayn," Louis mumbled, trying to calm down the raging tone of Zayn's soft voice. He pressed the phone tighter against his ear, but let himself zone out.

As Zayn continued his little rant - that Louis thought was such an overreaction - Louis let his eyes wander out of the living room he was currently in.

Harry was washing the dishes in the kitchen. His tall frame and the broad shoulders made Louis' mouth become dry; it was incredible how just his back was enough for Louis to lose his mind. Louis let his gaze lay on the curly locks on Harry's neck as he forced himself to focus on Zayn.

"-after that, so yeah, the next time you break up with your girlfriend, don't fucking disappear for a day. If you need someone to rant to or get wasted with you can always, you know, _call_ me. At least tell me you're fucking _alive_."

"Yeah, yeah Zayn," Louis mumbled. He ran his fingers on the back of the sofa absentmindedly, taking a few steps back and forth. Harry had just turned slightly; his side was at Louis now as he dried up some dishes, and the profile of his face was revealing the ridiculously wide smile and a deep dimple. Louis couldn't really breathe - Harry looked so gorgeous, so _happy_. It was long past the point where Louis tried to deny the fact he found Harry absolutely beautiful - Louis just accepted it, accepted the way his insides clenched from the attraction every time he saw Harry.

"Louis? Are you even there? For God's sake-"

"Uh, yeah," Louis answered to the phone sheepishly, "still here. Sorry. What'd you say?"

"Fucking hell..."

"I said I'm sorry!"

Louis heard Zayn sighing. "Yeah. But I asked where you're at?"

Louis froze. The sound of his heartbeat felt suddenly louder than it should have; his breathing quickening at the same pace. A tiny voice in his head reminded him of its existence, but he tried to shut it down.

"Uh, yeah - I'm at... Harry's."

"Harry's?" Zayn asked, and somehow his voice sounded slightly guarded all of a sudden.

"Yeah."

Louis didn't like the pause on the line.

"Louis, is everything alright?"

Louis frowned at Zayn's voice - it was suddenly too soft and worried, even though it was obvious that Zayn tried to hide it. 

"Yeah, it's- it's alright," Louis finally decided, his eyes caressing Harry's figure. "I'm alright. It's just-"

After a moment of silence Zayn prompted gently: "It's just what?"

Louis swallowed, feeling the familiar burn in his gut. "Have you- have you heard about her?"

Zayn was quiet for long. For _too_ long.

"Yeah," was the final, quiet sigh. "Yeah. Perrie told me, heard it from some of her friends. She's upset, from what I heard. But I mean, of course she is. Louis - what the fuck even happened?"

Just then Harry happened to glance at Louis over his shoulder, giving the warmest and yet cheekiest smile Louis had ever seen. Louis forced a smile back, which just deepened Harry's grin. Louis hadn't known that was possible.

"It's- Zayn, it's complicated, I'll tell you later when I get home-"

" _It's complicated_? Seriously?"

Louis closed his eyes. "Zayn, please. It really is- look, I'll explain. Today."

"Yeah, okay, sorry," Zayn murmured, "sorry, I'm just worried Lou."

"I know. You always are," Louis teased, but with a gentle and fond voice.

"Yeah."

"I'll be home in the evening, so you know, come there?"

"Yeah, I will - I could save Liam from cooking and make something to eat. I'll bring Niall too."

Louis smiled at Zayn's caring tone. "Great. Thanks, mate."

"Anytime. And Louis?"

Zayn's voice was careful, like testing the thin ice.

"Yeah?" 

"You know, if you want - if Harry wants - he could come, too."

A mixture of nervousness and excitement pierced Louis' stomach.

"Yeah?"

Louis could almost _hear_ Zayn's careful smile on the other side of the line. "Yeah."

"Okay, uh, well. See you later then?"

"Yeah. Love you."

Louis felt warmth spreading inside him. "Love you too."

When Louis ended the call, Harry was just finishing the dishes. His hands placed the last plate to the cupboard before the tall figure that was Harry Styles turned around, welcoming Louis to the kitchen with a playful smile.

"Who'd you talk with?" Harry asked with a pure curiosity, stepping closer to Louis.

"Zayn," Louis answered, trying to be casual as he noticed he was walking closer to Harry as well. 

"Zayn," Harry repeated. "He doesn't like me."

"No, he just worries about me. In fact," Louis' breath hitched as Harry closed the gap between them by stepping the last step towards Louis, "he asked, um, if you'd like to have some dinner with us? Today?"

Harry seemed to be surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah," Louis breathed as Harry's hand rose to caress his face lightly. It was just the slightest touch - not too much to intimidate Louis but enough to make the situation intimate.

"Do you want me to come?" Harry asked softly, examining Louis' face. Louis tilted his head back slightly, hesitating for a moment. But then the green of Harry's eyes made him feel sure about it; sure about everything. It was the calming effect of Harry, that something that made Louis' insides feel warm and serene.

"Yeah, I do," Louis murmured quietly, his breathing a little shaky. Harry's long fingers petted Louis' cheek lightly, sending shivers down Louis' spine. 

Slowly Harry leaned in, asking for Louis' permission with his eyes. Louis appreciated the way Harry gave him time to consider and adjust, a chance to pull back. Louis took his time, his eyes wandering between Harry's eyes and lips - but eventually, he let his hands find Harry's curly hair, gently and hesitatedly bringing their lips together. Louis felt Harry's smile against his lips, a little content hum caressing Louis' mouth as Louis grinned to the kiss.

"You taste like chicken," Harry whispered against Louis' lips after s while. Louis nearly barked at that; his silent laughter ticking Harry's lips.

"Chicken? Blame yourself, it was your cookings that I ate. Besides, you taste like pickles, and I _hate_ pickles," Louis breathed to Harry's mouth, grinning deeply.

It was answered by Harry's kiss, his soft lips moving against Louis' along their breathless laughs.

"Maybe I don't mind, though," Louis mumbled after a while. Because he didn't, really.

Even the pickles tasted good on Harry’s lips.  
 

***  
   
Harry felt a nervous twist in his stomach.

He wasn't one to stress over social situations or meeting new people, but this was different. First of all, he knew that especially Zayn wasn't his biggest fan, and a dinner with Zayn meant that Harry would have to try to make an impression. Second, Harry was afraid Zayn had talked about him with the other lads, Niall and Liam. Harry remembered the blond Irish guy from the party, and they had gotten along, but it had only been a tiny moment that they had chatted. And Liam - the only things Harry knew about Louis' flatmate were the things that Louis had told him, and since they had never even met, a bad reputation wouldn't be something nice to deal with.

That was if Zayn had even said anything. Harry tended to overanalyze things.

But he and Louis were already walking towards Louis' house, and there was no backing up. They had decided to take a walk despite the gloomy weather - Harry was happy they had, because fresh air and walking gave him time to prepare. 

He could tell Louis was nervous, too. It was in the extra pep in his step and in the slightly higher tone of voice than usually. Not to mention Louis kept rapidly checking his phone and stretching his fingers and hands to get them something to do.

"Zayn's a good cook - not as good as you though, Haz - and it'll be nice, yeah, I bet he makes chicken soup, it's his special, doesn't sound much but it's ridiculously good, I think Zayn uses some kind of black magic-"

"Lou, you're babbling," Harry grinned, poking Louis bicep with his finger. 

Louis squealed. "'M not."

"Yeah, you are. It's cute, though."

Harry could see the bit of blush rising onto Louis' cheeks. "Shut up."

Harry just laughed, ruffling Louis' hair gently. He earned a cranky slap from Louis as Louis punched his arm away.

"Bloody hell, Styles, get your sweaty palms off my hair-"

Harry couldn't swipe the grin off from his face.

It faded away after a while by itself. Harry began to recognize the blocks near Louis' flat; they were getting closer, and just like that the twist in his stomach was back. Five minutes, at most, before they would be at Louis' door.

"Lou," he murmured, "Zayn hates me. What if Liam does, too? And Niall?"

Louis glanced at him. "One more time, Harry, Zayn does _not_ hate you, not even dislike. Liam will like you, I'm sure of it, you two will get along perfectly. And fuck, Niall fucking _loved_ you the last time you two saw, he's even been asking about you. Barely remembers to ask about my wellbeing, he's more interested in yours."

"Yeah?" Harry whimpered.

"Yeah, Harry," Louis answered, before his voice turned gentler. "It's impossible to not like you. You're fucking adorable."

"I am?" Harry mumbled, trying to bite down his smile. He failed.

"Yeah. Now shut up before I change my mind," Louis mumbled, trying to act casual and annoyed - Harry just happened to see through him. The slight blush on Louis cheeks revealed the fact he was slightly embarrassed - slightly smitten. Harry's heart fluttered because it was caused by _him_.

Despite the cold wind, Harry's heart felt warm all of a sudden.

The warmth wasn't taken away even by the realization that they had arrived to Louis' home street. Harry took a deep breath to contain his nerves, but he didn't really succeed.

In silence they passed the street, continuing until the familiar door made them stop.

"We're here."

Harry felt Louis words like an electric shock. "Yeah."

There was a bit of chink as Louis dug his keys from the pocket of the denim jacket. Harry's eyes followed as Louis was about to open the door, but his hand stopped halfway through.

"Harry?"

The gaze in Louis' eyes made Harry feel anxious - it was too nervous, too careful.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, it's-" Louis weighted his words for a moment, "we're friends, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course, what do you-"

But the realization hit Harry.

"Oh. So- uh. We're gonna act like _just_ friends, that's what you mean?"

Louis was squirming under Harry's gaze. "I'm sorry, I'm just-"

"-not ready? Yeah, got it," Harry said, trying to cover it up with a smile. He was pretty sure he didn't manage to do it, though. He really _did_ get it, he knew Louis was sort of uncertain about everything and in an emotional place and still handling tons of different feelings and just not _ready_ , but he still felt and uncomfortable weight on his chest. 

"Harry," Louis murmured quietly, his hand lightly and quickly touching Harry's waist. "I know I suck, I'm sorry, but it's just too soon-"

Louis' touch sent shivers through Harry's body, and that was enough to make Harry feel good about everything. Or if not good, at least okay. "Yeah. It's okay, really, Louis."

With that, Louis gave Harry a little smile before unlocking the door.

As Louis had suspected, a delicious scent of chicken welcomed them as they stepped in. Harry inhaled the air - the chicken mixed with Louis' familiar smell and some other scents. The perfume of the flat was something Harry could have breathed for the rest of his life; mostly because of Louis' scent, though.

From the living room, loud laughter and talking echoed to Harry's ears. He recognized the laughter - memorizing a blond boy, Niall, from the party - and a soft, high yet deep voice that belonged to Zayn. But the third one, low and strong, didn't ring any bells in head.

Must've been Liam.

Harry glanced at Louis who was placing his jacket to the rack. His small hands were shaking so lightly Harry was barely able to see it, but he did; assuming Louis was on the verge of panic.

"Hey," Harry mumbled gently, keeping the volume down. He placed his hand to the crook of Louis' shoulder and neck, looking right into the blue eyes. "It's okay, yeah? No worries Lou."

Louis just swallowed nervously, glancing at Harry's lips that moved along his speaking. "Yeah."

Every cell in Harry's body told him to lean to kiss Louis, to kiss the uncertain expression away; but he resisted it, just caressing Louis' neck with his fingers.

He quickly pulled away, though. It was because the loud chatting had silenced in the other room, and a moment later a thick Irish accent announced: "Did ya hear that? I think they're here!"

It took less than ten seconds before the blond stumbled to the hallway, followed by Zayn and a guy that Harry had only seen in pictures.

"'Ello, lads!" Niall had the widest smile on his face as he stormed next to Harry and Louis, glancing both in excitement. "We've been waiting for you!"

Harry kind of loved Niall.

"Harry! Haven't seen ya since the party, how have ya been?"

Harry smiled at Niall who placed his hand brotherly to Harry's shoulder. "I've been good, thanks, what about you?"

"Great, great," Niall chatted, but he was already busy moving to Louis. His radiating smile timbered slightly as he gave Louis a concerned look. "Louis, heard about you and El, how are you doing..."

Harry decided to zone out and to focus on the other guys instead - he wasn't keen hearing Niall's worried questions about the break up, not to mention Louis' answers.

Zayn was looking at Louis before his dark eyes turned to Harry. 

"Hi, Harry."

Harry offered a careful smile. "Hi."

Zayn's face was emotionless for a moment, but then he flashed a smile-kind-of and nodded. Except, it wasn't just a nod - Harry was able to see the peace offering in it, and he accepted it with a nod back.  
Harry then turned his gaze to the unfamiliar lad with a black t-shirt, manly stubble and kind, warm brown eyes - Liam had been watching their silent conversation.

"Hi, you must be Harry then," Liam said with a deep voice, offering his hand. Harry shook it and smiled.

"And I assume you're Liam, hello!"

There was something about Liam that Harry found interesting. Liam seemed like a polite and reliable nice guy, but there was a shade of danger about him - something about his muscular frame and messy stubble and waxed hair.

Just as Harry let go of Liam's hand he felt an arm that was thrown over his shoulders.

"So here's the guy who's apparently Louis new bestie since the guy has basically abandoned us for you," Niall babbled, grin so wide it almost reached his ears. Harry decided to ignore the part where he was referred as Louis friend; instead, he just laughed at Niall's words.

"The new strategy is to bring you here. If the Louis won't come to the friends then friends must come to the Louis," Niall continued dramatically, making all the lads laugh while rolling their eyes.

"Niall, that metaphor doesn't even make sense," Zayn pointed out.

"Shh," Niall hushed, tightening his grip of Harry's shoulders.

Harry felt like home already.  
 

***

It was so, very nice.

As Louis had guessed, Zayn had made delicious chicken soup. The five lads had taken over the living room with their steaming cups of soup, talking and laughing and cracking stupid jokes about Niall accidentally spilling some of the soup to his white t-shirt. There was some kind of a music channel on the TV, but none of them really concentrated on that.

Harry thought it was amazing how well he got along with the guys. There was no awkward tension or the feeling of being the new one, an outsider in the group; actually, it was the other way around. Niall was literally obsessed with Harry, listening in awe to everything Harry said and keeping his arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry got along with Liam extremely well, too - they agreed with each other on most things and sort of just _got_ one another, their conversations being comfortable and effortless. Even Zayn was nice, friendly even, and although there was still a bit of tension, Harry didn't feel uncomfortable when talking or listening to the black-haired guy.

Louis was a case of his own. He wasn't as talkative as usually; Harry couldn't help noticing how Louis eyes lingered on Harry all the time, like studying Harry and his behaviour with Louis' friends. Harry reckoned he passed Louis' test as there was a bit of smile on the thin lips and a slight glimpse of affection in the blue eyes.

But when everything went too well, there was usually a turning point to that.

When they finished with the food, Liam suggested that they should clean the mess together. They brought dishes to the kitchen and put them to the dishwasher. All of them, except Niall who somehow managed to disappear just conveniently at that time. Harry helped Liam with the dishes as Louis and Zayn arranged the rest of the kitchen - and at some point Louis left to take the trash out. Liam soon told he would go to the bathroom, leaving Harry with the dishes.

And the moment Liam left the kitchen was the moment when Harry realized he was left alone; with Zayn.

Zayn was just putting the last items to the shelf. Suddenly the silence felt so thick to Harry; he wished someone would come back soon.

No one did.

He finished washing a cup that couldn't been washed in the dishwasher and dried it. All that time he avoided looking at Zayn, because for some reason he still didn't feel at ease with the guy. He still remembered the unpleasant conversation at Louis' university - he remembered Zayn's disliking eyes and the aggressive tone of voice that were meant just for Harry.

But for Harry's surprise, Zayn broke the silence with a quiet voice.

"Harry?"

Harry inhaled deeply before looking to Zayn. "Yeah?"

"Uh," Zayn mumbled, pausing for a moment. "I've, uh, been kind of a dick. Sorry about that."

Harry couldn't stop his eyes from widening - that was not what he had expected. "Oh, it's- it's alright."

"It's just that," Zayn continued, frowning as he arranged the shelf, "I love Louis, he's literally like a brother to me, and after meeting you, he's acted strangely."

Harry nodded even though Zayn wasn't looking at him. The whole situation was so weird, so bizarre Harry just kind of went with it. "Yeah, you want to take care of him and that's cool, I - I get it."

"The thing is, you don't," Zayn sighed, finally turning to look at Harry. "You've only known him for a second. I've known him forever. I know things you probably don't."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

Zayn examined Harry with his eyes for a moment, like contemplating something. "Nothing. Just that you don't know him like I do. And I worry about him - don't tell him that or he'll kill me - and especially because you two aren't really just friends, are you?"

Harry didn't answer right away, Louis' words about acting like friends haunting him - and apparently, Zayn saw that.

"He probably told you not to tell, but just - I just want to know. I won't say a word, I just want to know whether you're more than friends or not."

Harry sighed. He didn't even question how Zayn had guessed Louis' request - he just took Zayn's words about knowing Louis. "Yeah, okay, yeah. More than friends. Not sure what exactly, but more than that."

"Figured," Zayn said, a ghost of a smile finally curling onto his lips. It made Harry feel like a weight dropped from his chest - the smile felt like a careful approval. Harry couldn't help but return the smile.

"I've been kinda rough on you," Zayn continued, flashing an apologetic grin. He stepped a few steps closer and offered his hand. "We're good, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, grabbing Zayn's hand with a smile. It was all too official, but Harry didn't mind - what mattered was the fact there had been a peace offer from Zayn.

They returned to finishing the rest of the cleaning, giving the final touch for the kitchen.

"I get it, though - I would be protective too," Harry murmured after a while, "in fact, I kinda am already. So yeah, I get it."

"Yeah," Zayn answered softly. "He needs it sometimes, but he's pretty amazing so you know, it's worth it."

"He really is. Amazing."

Zayn glanced at Harry. "I've kinda realized it today - you really _do_ like him."

"I do," Harry answered right away, "I really-"

But he was interrupted as Louis walked into the room.

"-wondering where the fuck you're at?"

"Oh, hey Lou," Harry grinned, "we were just talking about you."

Louis' face went blank at the same moment. "What?"

Zayn just glanced at Harry, with an amused smile playing on his lips. "Yeah."

"Really," Louis mumbled, his eyes going back and forth between the two boys.

"We were agreeing on your bad cooking skills," Harry shrugged, the grin still on his face, "and how you wouldn't survive without people who can cook."

Zayn laughed at that, little crinkles appearing around his eyes - and Harry would probably have found that absolutely gorgeous if it wasn't for Louis who was blinding him for everyone else. Although Louis, on the other hand, didn't seem amused at all.

"Dicks," he muttered before turning around.

Harry and Zayn shared a look behind his back, grinning at each other.

"Alright, yeah, you're good at making tea," Zayn called after him.

"And cold coffee," Harry added, still grinning ridiculously wide.

Louis turned around again, facing the two. "Yeah. I make a hell of better tea and coffee than you two."

Harry tried to bite down his grin as Louis walked closer. "And when it comes to that 'cold coffee' you were referring to, it's not _my_ fault that you slept in and the coffee coolled down."

As Louis stepped one more step closer to Harry, Harry hummed with a smile. "Yeah. Shouldn't have slept in."

Louis shook his head, with an endearing look in his eyes - Harry nearly forgot that Zayn was standing right next to them as he got lost in Louis' blue eye; was it a cliché or not. Louis bit his lip slightly, exhaling deeply - which was when Zayn apparently decided to take the lead.

"Fucking kiss already," he mumbled under his breath.

Louis' eyes widened; a bit of panic was to be seen from them, but Harry just gave him a comforting smile. He leaned in slowly, and after carefully examining Louis' face, he pressed a peck of a kiss to the corner of Louis' mouth; and then another, but now straight to Louis' thin lips. Just a tiny, light kiss, barely feeling Louis' soft skin. Then Harry pulled back, examining Louis' face again.

The blue eyes were staring at Harry wider than ever, the mouth slightly opening; and then Louis' eyes found Zayn in the speed of light, like afraid yet dying to see Zayn's reaction.

Harry glanced at Zayn as well; and what he was faced with was a pure, warm smile, slightly teasing and on the verge of grin, but still affectionate. Harry smiled and looked back to Louis who was now unsurely glancing from Zayn to Harry repeatedly, before his face cracked into a careful and confused, very tiny smile. A slight blush rose to Louis' high cheekbones. Harry thought that it was probably the most beautiful thing he had ever seen - but then, he thought the exact same every time he saw Louis.

"Um. Yeah. Good coffee," Louis mumbled incoherently, his words stumbling slightly.

Zayn bursted to laughter, and Harry couldn't really keep himself from snickering a little either. The blush on Louis' cheeks deepened slightly.

"Let's go back to the living room, yeah?" Louis mumbled, ignoring the two boys.

"Sure," Zayn grinned, already heading towards the living room. Harry and Louis followed soon after him, Louis still slightly startled.

While they walked behind Zayn, Harry circled his arm gently around Louis, placing a soft kiss to Louis' temple.

"I hate you," Louis whispered so quietly only Harry could hear it.

The thing was, the tone of Louis' whisper was everything but hateful. It was gentle and attached, radiating fondness, whispering things without words. Harry's heart was about to burst from the affection and happiness - and he returned the tone, with an endearing whisper.

"I hate you too, Lou."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is anyone there??? please tell me someone is?? u should leave a comment if a) ur there b) u like it c) u hate it in which case id like to know why pls thanks or leave a kudos if u like it pls


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Songs changed, people around them changed, but that didn't mean a thing to them.
> 
> Because there was nothing but the two of them, burning with the need to collide. Fitting to each other like two puzzle pieces; merging into one like two twin flames."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy. im so sorry about the hiatus that none of us were expecting. i just lost all my inspiration and i couldnt write a proper sentence, not to mention a chapter, and when the time passed i just kinda forgot. but now, a few of you lovelies have been commenting and giving kudos, and i decided to try again. so THANK YOU, everyone who had lately commented, you were the spark for my inspiration. this chapter happened in one day, and i hope you enjoy it!! sorry again, forgive me, ill try to become  
> better writer for now on.

Louis stuffed the last slice of pizza into his mouth.

Somehow the dinner had continued after the dinner. First it had been 6 PM, and then 7 PM, and then 11 PM. Somehow they had gotten something to drink. Maybe it was Niall's Irish genes, or Liam's recent rebellous attitude towards everything, or Louis' need for some alcohol, but they had decided to get some beer. 

And somehow they had also ordered pizza. It was probably because of the alcohol, though - when there was alcohol, there was also pizza. That was was a fact (according to Niall, anyway). 

Zayn glanced at Louis. "Hungry much?" 

"Mmh phh mm," Louis tried to mumble with his mouth full - Zayn just laughed at him and shook his head, earning a scowl from Louis. It wasn't really his fault that alcohol made him crave for food, was it? 

"We should sing karaoke!" Niall suddenly shouted, his face lighting up with excitement. "Really! Let's-"

"No," Zayn muttered immediately. "Absolutely not." 

"C'mon Zayn! You can't be  _that_ bad at singing-" 

At that, Louis finally forced himself to swallow the pizza he'd been munching. "He's not, haven't you ever heard him?" 

"You can sing?" Harry took part of the conversation, curiously turning to look at Zayn. 

Zayn was clearly uncomfortable with it, squirming under the sudden attention. Louis thought it was a shame how Zayn always avoided attention - after all, his best mate was amazing at everything that included artistic skills. Drawing, singing, writing - you named it, and Louis could assure Zayn had the talent. 

"Well, not really-" 

"He's great," Louis interrupted, "you should hear him." 

Zayn scowled at Louis. "Shut up." 

Louis stick his tongue out - he ignored the fact he was acting like a five year old - and grinned at Zayn. The truth was, Zayn had a great voice; Louis had heard him singing or humming numerous times. It was always when Zayn didn't know Louis was able to hear it; for example when he didn't know Louis was already home, or when he was in the shower and thought Louis had already left. Louis envied him just a little since he had always enjoyed singing; he just didn't find himself good enough to sing in front of other people. 

"Sing something," Niall prompted, leaning forwad. Zayn shook his head sheepishly, not bothering to hide his annoyance. 

It wasn't that Louis wanted to make him uncomfortable, but he still wished Zayn wouldn't have been so shy about it; in Louis' opinion it would've been great to let the others know just how amazing Zayn's voice could be. 

"C'mon! 'S just us," Niall cooed, not bothering to hide his curiosity. Zayn was just about to throw out another "hell no", but he was interrupted by Harry. 

"Hey, if he doesn't want to he doesn't have to," Harry said, making Louis feel like the boy was some kind of a guardian angel or something. Louis didn't know whether he wanted to punch him or hug him. Both, probably. 

"Thanks, man," Zayn mumbled, scowling at the others irritatedly. 

Louis rolled his eyes.  "Harry, you're only taking his side 'cause he didn't like you at first."

Niall shot a curious glance at Louis. Louis seemed to be the only one to notice it, though; the look on Harry's face told that was just about to protest, and Louis didn't want to explain the tension Harry and Zayn had had between them before. And as he had learned, turning the topic to someone else was the best defense. "Harry?" 

Harry looked like he swallowed his protests before answering: "Yeah, Lou?" 

"You sing, don't you? At some kind of a bar?" 

A shy smile lit up Harry's face. "Well, um, yeah." 

Now all eyes were on Harry - Niall and Liam were purely curious, Zayn mostly just relieved when the attention wasn't on him anymore. 

"Zayn's a coward, but surely you're not, and will sing a bit?" Niall said, blue eyes excited. 

Harry blushed slightly, the shy smile widened so that it was showing off a dimple - Louis found himself admiring it fondly, quickly getting it together with a deep breath. "Well, I don't know..." 

"C'mon," Niall prompted, taking a sip from the beer bottle he was holding, "just a little. To get the rest of us to the mood." 

Harry but his lower lip, the smile still playing on his face as he shook his head. Niall rolled his eyes jokingly, mumbling: "I'm friends with two wimps." 

"Heyyy," Harry protested, "'m not. I'm just not feeling like it right now. But, uh-" 

Then he had a little pause, being clearly uncertain about the thing he was about to say next. That was why  Louis, who had never really stopped staring at Harry, encouraged him a little too softly: "But, what?" 

"Well, erm, I happen to have a gig tomorrow. So, uh, maybe if you'd like to come..." 

For the tiniest moment, everyone was quiet. A slideshow of pictures flashed through Louis' mind - Harry singing on a huge stage, surrounded by screaming fans, maybe a song dedicated to Louis... but then he got it together. Harry was no superstar, as much as Louis could've seen him as one. 

"...or not," Harry rushed with an embarrassed voice, after a few seconds of silence, "you don't have to, it's-" 

Niall, Zayn and Liam interrupted right away, all at the same time, assuring they would want to come with different versions of excited "no, it sounds absolutely great!" and "of course we would, just set the time". 

Louis took a moment just to smile softly at Harry, who seemed to only have his eyes on Louis; and murmured way too fondly after a moment: "I'd  _love_ to." 

"Well, good then," Harry said; loud enough for everyone hear, but for some reason Louis got the feeling that it was mostly meant for him, "I begin around 11 PM, I'll write the address down." 

"Ace," Zayn said, smiling; the others nodded, excitement bubbling in their gazes. Liam tapped Harry's back brotherly and Niall made it clear how cool he thought it was to have a singer as a friend.  As for Louis, the excitement was mixed with nervousness, even though he had no idea why.

When the others started to babble about the following evening, Louis took a moment to go to the kitchen, excusing it with the need of another beer. As he leaned against the kitchen wall, nervous bubbles circling in his stomach, he made a mental note to wash his black skinny jeans - the ones that hugged his ass perfectly - that night. After all, you didn't see your, erm, friends with some kind of benefits performing every day. 

 

*** 

 

"I think that's the place," Liam said, pointing a little building with lit up words "Bar Grimmy" placed over the double doors, one of which was open with a hunky man in black suit standing in front of it.  The guy was currently checking papers of some guy, who had clearly taken more than just a little; judging by the loud voice that was clumsily explaining how it was definitely him in the picture in the passport.

Louis tugged his red t-shirt with a wide neckline. He knew it was showing just a bit of the words tattooed on his chest, just like he wanted it to, but he still tried to adjust it better - even though no one could really see it yet since it was still under his black leather jacket that he had settled to despite the cold weather. The jacket just happened to look way better than any of his winter jackets, and the way it clung on him was definitely worth the freezing. 

"Yeah," Zayn agreed to Liam's obvious statement. The four of them crossed the street, Niall adding a little extra speed to his steps, concluding to him being the first one at the entrance. Louis could tell he was enthusiastic about the fact he would soon see his friend performing. 

Louis couldn't blame him, really. 

The music was loud enough for them to hear it clearly, even though they were still on the outside. There was a nervous clench in Louis' stomach while he bouncer checked their IDs - very strictly, Louis noticed, as the hunk gave a double glance between him and his ID - and let them in.  And after paying, giving their jackets away and walking through a dark, tiny lobby, they were inside. 

Louis' had high standards for bars. This one, though, seemed to live up to them right at the fist sight. It was warm, cosy - quite full of people either dancing or chatting at the bar counter, but still not overly crowded. It was nothing too fancy or modern, but an old-styled, small club-kind-of with dim lightning. For his surprise, most of the people were young, even though the place itself seemed to be more of an old men's bar. It was a perfect place for Harry to work at, Louis decided. 

That was when he saw the familiar, curly head that popped up from the bar counter - and soon Harry was rushing through the crowd with a huge smile on his face. Suddenly, for some reason Louis felt like his legs would give in any second. 

"Louis! And Niall, Zayn- Liam," Harry greeted them all, but he only glanced at the other boys quickly before adjusting his eyes to Louis. "Just in time." 

"Hi Harry," Louis answered along the other boys who greeted Harry as well. Niall was the first one to walk up to Harry and catch him to a big hug. Harry smiled at Louis over Niall's shoulder, the smile being slightly awkward but warm nonetheless. 

"Great to see ya," Niall babbled. As if they hadn't just seen the day before, Louis thought and suppressed a fond eye roll. 

"You too," Harry mumbled. 

"It's a nice place," Liam pointed out after Niall let Harry out of his hug. "Great athmosphere." 

"Isn't it?" Harry smiled, gently glancing around. "I like it. It's a nice place to perform at." 

"Speaking of," Zayn glanced at his watch, "what time did you begin? Was it at eleven?" 

"Yeah," Harry nodded, glancing at his own watch (Louis resisted the urge to roll his eyes, again - these guys with their watches), "so that's in about ten minutes." 

As the other boys took a better look around, Harry inched closer to Louis. Louis felt his heartbeat quickening at the same pace that Harry came closer; and then the taller boy gave him a light hug with his other arm. When he leaned against Louis, Louis could feel the slightest touch of Harry's soft lips on his cheek; it was just a tiny moment as Harry's head passed Louis', but enough to make Louis' stomach flip around. "Hi," Harry whispered softly to his ear before pulling back from the hug. Louis looked in Harry's eye with his mouth slightly open, heart racing like hooves of a race horse. 

"Hi." 

Harry bit his lip as a wide grin of a smile spreaded all over his face - Louis knew it was because of Louis' overwhelmed reaction, which was why he quickly adopted an annoyed face. "Shut up." 

"Didn't say anything," Harry defended himself, the green eyes big and innocent. Damn puppy. Louis just shook his head and mumbled: "You're fucking impossib-" 

But he was interrupted by an unfamiliar, sharp voice. 

"Harry, bloody hell, where are you, you should be getting ready-" 

A lanky, black-haired guy stumbled to Louis' sight from the back of the counter. 

"Here!" Harry waved his hand - first to make the guy notice him, then to suggest him to come closer. And the guy did. 

What caught Louis' eye first was the tall figure - probably about the same height as Harry. Louis assumed that the guy was somewhere between 25 and 30 years old. The black, or maybe dark brown, hair was on a messy quiff and there was a slight touch of a stubble on his face. The guy had a strong nose and strong features overall. 

For some reason Louis got a feeling that he wouldn't become besties with the guy. 

"Nick!" Harry said as the tall guy - Nick - reached them. 

"Yeah, don't 'Nick' me, your gig starts in five," Nick muttered at Harry, before his eyes found Louis.  They shared a look - which only deepened Louis' bad feeling about the guy even though the look was nothing but curious and polite. 

"I'm basically ready, calm down. Here's Louis. And, uh, Zayn, Niall and Liam," Harry said, pointing at the four guys with a nearly excited smile. "And guys, Nick - my friend." 

"Employer," Nick corrected immediately, grinning jokingly. He had an annoying voice, Louis thought. And an annoying sense of humour. (Louis decided it was okay to judge a person by just one half a joke.) 

"Both," Harry settled, being the sweetest little thing ever with his dimply smile; and all of a sudden Louis' annoyance was gone. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Harry. Anyways, nice to meet y'all, I'd love to have a chat, but Harry, you still have to get up on the stage soon, the place is starting to be as full as it will get, so." 

The guy's ramble brought Louis' annoyance back, but Harry's smile didn't fade. Instead, it turned into an understanding, more professional, calm and polite one, as if to say "right, I'm here in business". The only thing that gave Harry in for Louis were his eyes; there was a nervous glimpse in them. Louis wanted to hug him and tell him he'd be fine. 

He didn't. 

Harry glanced at the clock before returning to Nick. "Yeah, 'course. I'll go and get ready." 

He gave the last smile at Louis before disappearing to the crowd, Nick right behind him; Louis' eyes following Harry even after he disappeared from his sight. 

 

***

 

"It's the first time you see him performing?" Louis heard a questioning voice next to him. 

Louis just nodded, eyes fixed on Harry, who was currently strutting on the stage in the rhythm of the song he was currently performing.

It was definitely Louis' first time, but he was sure it wouldn't be last - first, because it was  _Harry_ , and second, because Harry was, though it was no surprise, ridiculously talented. He had been singing covers of different kind of songs; a couple of current list hits, a few older big songs and some that weren't so familiar to Louis, but energetic and rousing anyway. Harry had a rocky tone to it, mixed with some influences of folk and pop; Louis loved it. 

"He's great," the voice continued after a while; sharp and annoying as ever. 

"Of course he is," Louis mumbled coldly, without even bothering to look at the source of the voice. He cursed the fact he was alone; the other three guys were dancing, or at least that was what they had left Louis for. A quick glance around revealed that they were, in fact, dancing quite near. When Liam had asked Louis to join, Louis had said he preferred sitting there. It was out of Louis' character, to not be the first on the dance floor - but Louis hadn't had enough to drink, plus keeping his eyes on Harry was way better entertainment. 

Nick stepped forward so that Louis was able to see him from the corner of his eye. "Easy there, no need to be rude. 

"Wasn't being," Louis muttered under his breath. He had all the rights to say whatever he wanted - not to mention he wasn't in a mood to listen to Nick when the other option was to enjoy Harry's raspy notes. 

"If I didn't know better," Nick began in amusement, "I'd think you hate me." 

"Oh, but you know better?" Louis said sarcastically, quirking his brows a little. Maybe he was overreacting, but.

He saw a confused grin from the corner of his eye. "Are you implying you hate me?" 

"Didn't say that," Louis answered coldly, trying to focus on Harry. He didn't need this conversation with the Annoying Lanky Guy when all he wanted was to enjoy Harry's gorgeous gig and his moves that would probably have looked ridiculous if the one who did them had been anyone but Harry, who just made them look very rockstar-ish and, Louis had to admit, sexy.

"Are you always like this?" the Annoying Lanky Guy continued. 

Louis wanted to punch him.  "Yes. Always."

"Little but feisty. I like it." 

"Did you just call me little?" 

Now Nick let out a laugh; it just fuelled Louis' annoyance. Who was the guy to call Louis "little"? Sure, he was nowhere near Nick - or Harry, for that matter - but he wasn't  _little_ . 5 feet 9 wasn't  _that_ short. 

"Not everyone is a giant, like you," Louis mumbled, still staring at Harry who was punching the air with his fist before taking a deep breath and starting the chorus of the current song.

"Giant? I wouldn't go that far," Nick laughed. "Besides, if I'm giant, then what's Harry? I mean, I used to be taller, but the kid grows like he's aiming to be a damn skyskraper, so I wouldn't be surprised if he was taller now-" 

"Harry's just as tall as he should be," Louis said, finally turning to look at Nick. He was faced with two curious eyes, crinkled a little along his grin. After a few seconds of honest staring competition, Nick grinned once again and said lightly: "Harry's right, you  _are_ pretty." 

Louis didn't know whether to feel flattered or offended - flattered because Harry had described him as "pretty" (maybe, just maybe Louis' heart fluttered a little too fast), but offended because Nick agreed. Nick wasn't in a place to call Louis pretty.

Unfortunately, before Louis was able to hit back with something witty and clever (not that he had anything particular in mind), woman's voice called Nick's name, which made them both to turn their heads to see the source of it.

"We're running out of strawberries," the woman said from behind the bar counter. She had very light hair, maybe silver coloured; in the darkness and the flashing lights of the bar Louis couldn't really tell. "I need more, if you want me to keep making my special margaritas." 

"Right, Lou, I'll get more. Do you have enough for tonight?" 

"Hardly," the woman, Lou, sighed. "But I think I'll manage. But tomorrow, Nick, better get more of them tomorrow." 

"Sure," Nick answered, but Lou's eyes had turned to Louis, who had been listening to the brief conversation. Nick seemed to notice the questioning look on Lou's face, because he continued: "This is Louis, Harry's..." 

Nick glanced curiously at Louis, who rushed to continue: "Friend. Harry's friend." 

"Louis, was it?" A frown settled onto Lou's face before her face lit up with recognation. "Louis! Right! Harry's talked about you, a lot actually, how come I didn't put pieces together right away!" 

"He has?" Louis asked, too surprised to hide it. 

"Yeah! He's barely talked about anything else, really. I've been wishing I'd meet you! I'm Lou, as you probably figured out already, Harry's friend and well, a working buddy since I'm the bartender, as you can probably see." 

Louis smiled at her, still feeling a little dizzy, and offered his hand with a "nice to meet you". Harry had told his friends about him. And apparently,  _a lot _.__

Before Lou rushed back to work with drinks and demanding, drunk clients, they shared a few words, not much but enough to give Louis a nice and warm impression of Lou. He was glad to see that he got along with her; and that Harry had nice friends, too, because he didn't have that good feeling about all of them (he gave a sly glance at the guy next to him). 

It was a start, for sure. 

For Louis' delight, Nick seemed to have something to do as well as he excused himself and left Louis by himself. It gave Louis a chance to concentrate on Harry again, and he couldn't have been more grateful for that.

"...and it's my last song for today, a slow one, and uhm, it's an original song, so um, I hope you like it." 

In no time at all Louis' full focus was on Harry. An original song, huh? 

Harry had moved to the piano, and Louis could see the nervousness on his face. Before beginning the song Harry glanced at the audience, seeming like he was looking for something - but then he took a deep breath and played the first notes on the piano. 

The melody was nice and soft, simple and slow but still catchy. Louis leaned forward on his seat. But then Harry opened his mouth, the raspy voice flowing out softly to the microphone. 

"Now you were standing there right in front of me..." 

Harry's voice was gorgeous. It had been beautiful during the previous songs, but now - now that Harry was singing his own words, his own melody, without the trembling bass but just a piano - it was on a whole new level. Not only Harry's voice, but Harry himself, too. On a whole new level of charming. 

"All of a sudden these lights are blinding me, I never noticed how bright they could be..." 

Louis didn't know whether to keep watching Harry - long fingers flying on the piano, eyes closed, brows in a slight frown and plumb lips moving along the song - or to close his eyes and just enjoy the gorgeous tone of Harry's voice. 

"I keep my arms wide open..." 

Turned out Louis was too mesmerized by the sight of Harry losing himself to the song, which was why he couldn't have closed his eyes even if he had wanted to. He didn't want to, though. Not when Harry looked so vulnerable, so emotional.

"Don't let me, don't let me go, cos' I'm tired of feeling alone..." 

Louis' felt a grasp in his heart. Harry's voice was breathtaking - itwas full of emotion as it came out nearly desperately, clinging to every word. 

"Seems like these days I watch you from afar, just trying to make you understand..." 

It took every ounce of Louis' self control to not get up and run to the stage. He wanted to take Harry into his arms and never let the boy go - he wanted to take away the pain and the despair from Harry's voice. 

"Don't let me, don't let me go..."

There was whimpering softness in Harry's voice before the last chorus begun and his voice bursted into a powerful raspiness again, and Louis felt the chills going down his spine, he felt the consuming pain of needing Harry in his heart. 

"...cos' I'm tired of sleeping alone." 

Louis didn't really even realize that his hands started slowly clapping, that his eyes were slightly wet. Harry opened his eyes after the last note, his face serious and emotional. Dimly, Louis noticed that the crowd was cheering - but he mostly noticed it because of the slow smile that rose onto Harry's face, even though Louis was pretty sure there were something moist in Harry's eyes, too. 

"So, uh, thanks," Harry mumbled to the mic. "Nice to perform to you all." 

The crowd applaused while the lights on the little stage timbered. And soon after, it was like the bar went back to normal, some music beginning to play loudly from the stereos. Louis just didn't care, really. He just wanted to see Harry. 

It felt like an eternity as he waited, sitting on the stool. People went by, getting to the dancefloor, drunker and drunker; Louis ordered himself a drink too to get something to do while he waited, and it definitely wasn't the first one. 

But then, after ages, the curly head appeared from the crowd. 

Louis didn't really plan it. He knew Zayn, Niall and Liam were near, probably watching; he knew they were in the middle of a lot of people; but that didn't have an effect on him. Not now. 

He got up, rushing closer to Harry. And Harry smiled at him, opening his mouth to say something. "Hey, Lou, how did-" 

But Louis kind of interrupted him. 

With his lips. 

It was a long and passionate kiss, full of the ache Louis had felt during the last song and even now, with Harry in his arms, the warm lips colliding.

Harry made a surprised sound, but then gave in to the kiss, slowly circling his arms around Louis' waist and pulling him closer. Louis felt how a smile began to dance on Harry's lips as they kissed. After a moment, maybe a second or five minutes, Louis pulled back, opening his eyes. He waited until his eyes met Harry'sgreen. 

"What was that for?" Harry whispered, pupils blown and voice breathless. 

"I won't." 

Harry frowned. "Wh-" 

"I won't," Louis swallowed, "let you go." 

Harry simply let out a little rush of breath. "How did you-" 

"-know?" Louis finished, smiling a little. "I'm not stupid, Haz. And that's the reason I won't let you go, because you know, it'd be the stupidest _-_ or, uh, the most stupid, whatever - thing to do." 

That was when Harry kissed him again, now desperately. Louis felt Harry's huge hand running on his back, from the curve of his waist to his shoulderblades, even higher to his hair. Harry was pressing Louis as close to him as possible, keeping him safe in the long, muscular arms. 

"Louis," Harry whimpered to the kiss, "Louis, I lov-" 

Louis interrupted him again, pecking their lips together one more time. He knew what was coming, he felt the words on Harry's lips, he had heard them before - but he wasn't ready for them now.

"You were amazing," Louis whispered instead, finally setting their lips apart. "You shithead should've told me how great you are." 

His gentle eyes traced Harry's face slowly, and even in the darkness he was able to see the blush on Harry's face. "Uh, well, I wouldn't-"

"Don't you dare to put yourself down, you were _incredible_ -"

Someone cleared throat next to them, and Louis felt a furious blush rising onto his cheeks as he quickly pushed himself apart from Harry. What he saw first was Niall's confused face. 

"What the fuck, you two? Are you like, a thing or something? Did you think you would get away with this-" 

Louis felt the familiar burn of shame and pain in his gut as Niall's words came out. 

"-without telling me? Like, I'm offended, I thought we were friends-" 

The burn calmed down as relief washed it away. Louis let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding; his eyes found Zayn, who was grinning at Niall's reaction, and Liam, who seemed to be surprised and confused, but nowhere near judging. 

"-do you not trust me, lads? I feel hurt."

Louis heard as Harry giggled beside him, tightening his grib on Louis. A careful smile rose onto Louis' lips while Harry laughed: "Sorry." 

"Nah, 's good, but next time, tell me if you're shagging behind me back, okay?" 

Louis nearly choked - he was thankful for Harry, who clearly had taken control of the discussion. 

"Yeah, we'll tell if we're _shagging_ behind your back." 

"Thanks," Niall grinned, but then his face got curious. "How long, though?" 

Louis glanced at Harry, who was clearly weighting his words. As unusual as it was, Louis was sort of speechless - he decided to let Harry do the speaking, because he was still dizzy, trying to gather himself together. Not that he would have admitted it, though. 

"A while," Harry finally answered. "Can't really point my fingerat the exact point we started, uh..."

"Dating?" Liam suggested, speaking for the first time. Harry gave a quick look at Louis, searching for something; an approval, maybe. 

Louis approved. And made it clear, as he was the one to answer: "Yeah. Dating. I think that's - I think that covers it." 

Louis felt Harry's smile on him - the tingles on his skin never lied, nor did the butterflies in his stomach. 

Butterflies. He was thinking about damn _butterflies_. 

He ignored the _ridiculous_ and _embarrassing_ thoughts and realized that his other arm was still around Harry's neck and shoulder. For a second, he felt awkward about it - clinging to Harry like that in front of _so many_ people - but then Harry happened to move his arm so that he was able to pull Louis closer and press a kiss onto Louis' temple, and suddenly Louis didn't feel awkward at all. 

In fact, he felt like it was exactly where he was supposed to be, how he was supposed to be. 

And, he was turning into a sap. 

"Quite a shock," Niall mumbled, his eyes shining from excitement. "Bloody hell, the next round is on me." 

The four of them grinned, Harry even let out a little laugh; then Louis felt another kiss on his temple before Harry let go of him to follow Niall. But right before that, Harry glanced Louis over his shoulder with a smile on his face and shrugged. It was a mix of "see, it's all good" and "now you're mine, officially", and the feeling it gave Louis was something he wasn't able to recognize - something good though, for sure. 

Louis returned the smile, but didn't follow the three boys - he wasn't really able to move.  Zayn noticed it and stayed; observing Louis before stepping closer and landing his hand to Louis' shoulder brotherly. 

"You okay, mate?" 

Louis stared into Zayn's brown eyes, taking a deep breath in - trying to figure out whether he was or not. He had just basically kissed Harry in front of a club full of people and most importantly, in front of his friends, not to mention that they were apparently dating now, which, if Louis wasn't completely misled, made Harry his boyfriend. 

And for Louis' surprise, he felt nothing but a light feeling, like he was floating feets and feets above the ground. 

"Yeah, I guess I am." And then he felt a little embarrassed, which was why he added: "Hell, Zayn, I'm not made of glass." 

"I know you aren't," Zayn grinned, but his expression was warm. He threw his arm around Louis' shoulders, turning around to see the rest of their little group - the three were laughing at something at the bar counter, already sipping their beers. 

"He treats you as if you were, though," Zayn continued, and Louis' eyes focused on Harry's face - the beautiful dimples and sparkling eyes as he was explaining something to Liam and Niall. 

"He kind of does," Louis said gently, "but then doesn't. He's... unusual." 

They were quiet for a moment. Louis knew, without checking Zayn, that they both were looking at the curly lad. The warmth spred inside of Louis; suddenly, he felt insanely happy. He had his four best friends; one of which was about to turn into more than that, into something Louis couldn't even dare to think of, because the way Harry made him feel was something he had never thought he would feel, never thought he _could_ feel.

"I've decided that I like him," Zayn said, breaking the silence. "He's good for you. Good enough." 

"You're grading my dating canditates, Malik? Is that it?" Louis teased, glancing at Zayn. 

"Of course. I've got a grading system for everyone who dares to try anything on you." 

"Well if this isn't interesting," Louis grinned. "What's Harry's grade, then?" 

Zayn laughed. "He's good enough to _get_ a grade. Most people are below my F." 

Louis' lips curled into a grin again. "Demanding, huh?" 

"My best friend only deserves the best." 

"Sappy." 

"Only for you." 

There was another silence; Louis knew that they should have joined the others already, but he just didn't feel like it. His humoured smile slowly faded away as he thought about Zayn's words. 

"Have you really, like, evaluated the people I've dated?" 

Zayn was quiet for a moment before sighing and nodding. "Yeah." 

The next thought that came to Louis' mind would have never been said out loud if it wasn't for the drinks Louis had already consumed. "Eleanor, too?" 

Now the only answer was a positive "mm-hmm". 

"Did you think she was, um, good enough?" 

It was probably the longest silence so far. Louis could nearly feel how Zayn considered his words carefully. 

"Honestly? I always liked her, so it wasn't really about her - but I always felt like there was something about you two as a couple that just didn't, you know, fit." 

Louis stared at Harry; how the beautiful boy threw his head back as he laughed, so that the curls swung slightly, shining in the dim lights. 

"Yeah," was what Louis settled for. And even though his eyes were on Harry, he saw how Zayn glanced at him. 

"Now I kinda know why," said Zayn's voice softly. "You never looked at her like that." 

Louis gave a baffled look at Zayn, who just ignored it, shrugged and changed the topic: "They are waiting us, let's go." 

"What do you mean 'like that'?" Louis asked, frowning as Zayn led him closer to the three. Zayn just shook his head, an amused smile playing on his plumb lips. 

What an ass. 

But Louis didn't have more time to be mad at Zayn, because the second he let Zayn out of his sight, he was faced with a pair of two sparkling eyes. 

"Babe," Harry greeted him with voice even deeper than usually, snaking his arm around Louis' waist; suddenly everything else slipped out of Louis' mind, "I bought us tequilas, here..." 

Louis hadn't noticed the two tiny glasses in Harry's other, huge hand - the other was, as Louis was unable to forget, squeezing his waist. 

"Thanks," Louis mumbled, then: "Wait, did you just call me-" 

Harry leaned in, nuzzling his nose next to Louis' ear as he whispered hotly: "Did I just call you what, _babe_?" 

Chills went down Louis' spine as Harry's breath tickled his ear - the vibrations of his voice seemed to go right through him to the certain body part that was hardening in a fairly fast pace. 

He decided the best way to deal with it was to empty the shot glass, followed with the lemon slice. 

"You two, I don't know and I don't wanna know what you're whispering there, but don't forget that we're here too," Niall nearly shouted (the music had gotten even louder), "and I'd like to dance. I take no 'nos' for an answer here." 

Zayn and Liam laughed, agreeing right away. Louis felt the burning feeling of the liquid spreading to his chest, and with a deep exhale he nodded at Niall, then clung to Harry and whispered: "I'm a hell of a dancer." 

"I know," Harry whispered raspily, just finished his own shot, "I never forgot how you moved against me at that party." 

Louis nearly let out a whimper, grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him after Niall, who was leading their way to the middle of the dance floor. 

That night Louis let himself go; only existing in Harry's arms, and in hands that explored his body with every single movement. They needed no rest as they had each other to fuel one another. Songs changed, people around them changed, but that didn't mean a thing to them. 

Because there was nothing but the two of them, burning with the need to collide. Fitting to each other like two puzzle pieces; merging into one like two twin flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was it too cheesy??? god its been so long since i wrote, i feel like my writing sucks, fucking hell.
> 
> i dont know how long it is or whether it looks good or not bc im on mobile (since i have no access to my laptop atm), so sorry if its very short or theres something weird.
> 
> please let me know if youre still reading! otherwise i dont know whether its worth continuing or not. and well, id really appreciate comments on the chapter itself lmao, tell me whether you like it or hate it. and if you happen to like it, kudos would be a nice way to show it x


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Or that was what he had used to think. But now, as he stared at his own reflection, he saw something about him that was different.
> 
> He now knew what it was like to wake up next to Harry, what it was like to introduce Harry as his significant one, to have Harry and be Harry's in public, and he knew - nothing he could have had with Eleanor could have compared to it. Not even if he had wanted to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all your lovely comments!! its been really nice to notice that you people dont hate me after that stupid break, and that you are still reading xx much love!

Louis turned around under a heavy arm, landing onto his back to the warm bed.

A smile began to play on his lips as he listened to the steady breath next to him, letting him know that the boy, whose arm was laying on his stomach, was still asleep. It was probably the most calming voice Louis had ever heard; like from all those yoga cds. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Harry would make a great breathing model for those, Louis thought; the idea making him smile. Maybe Louis could get into yoga if that happened, he wondered as he let out a yawn, slightly stretching his arms as his eyes fluttered open.

The white ceiling was bathing in the sunlight that was shining from the window of his room. It was so peaceful, just laying there. Or it would have been; Louis sighed, slowly starting to recognize the banging headache that was left as a reminder from the last night. His mouth was dry, too. Alcohol, never again. Never ever. 

Well, maybe next Friday.

Louis glanced next to him. Despite the hangover he couldn't help but smile as he saw Harry, who was still fast asleep. The boy was taking most of Louis' bed, his endless limbs partly over Louis and partly spread all around the bed. What caught Louis' eye was that Harry's mouth was wide open, a bit of drool leaking from the corner of his lips. Louis should've found it gross; after all, it was drool that would be stuck on his pillow.

But because Louis was a hopeless sap, he just found it cute. He suppressed a fond laugh and hummed instead.

The peaceful bliss didn't last for too long, though. As he got more awake, more aware of last night and himself, a sudden uncomfortable feeling filled his stomach. Along with a quick inhale he tried to figure our how they had gotten into his room. Parts of the night before were in blur, and trying to memorize things only made his headache worse.

It came to him soon, though; they had left the bar, the two of them and Liam, and Harry had been about to go home - but Louis had felt needy, and clingy, and cuddly, and therefore he had told Harry to come with him.

_"Come, Harry, with... me, sleep with me..."_

_"No, Louis... it's, uh, taking advantage of-  um, something, I'm not gonna sleep with you, you're so drunk, we're so drunk- shit," giggles, "so drunk-"_

_"No, God, yer dumb, no not you God, but you Harry, dumb, sleep-sleep, just sleep, I need cuddles, fuck it's cold here..."_

So far so good, Louis thought, glancing at Harry again. Cuddling and sleeping, all good. Nothing to be ashamed of. Louis closed his eyes, feeling momentarily satisfied with what he had remembered. But then another flash of uncomfort made him dig his memories deeper - there was something bothering him. Louis frowned, opening his eyes again; there was something that he should have remembered-

Making out with Harry in a crowded club.

At first Louis was just happy with the fact the last night was coming back to him; then confusion filled him. A part of him felt guilty and uneasy about kissing Harry in front of so many people; and a part of him, a part that wanted to wake Harry up with kisses, felt guilty about feeling guilty. It was a ridiculous thought probably, but Louis couldn't really help it - he felt like he owned Harry as much as not being ashamed about kissing the boy. Unfortunately he was unable to undo the guilt that had built up into his mind.

Louis felt his heart rate quickening; he needed to get up.

Carefully he moved Harry's arm away, sitting up on the bed. In the dark bar everything had felt right, perfect even; but in the light of the day, his previous carefree feeling was long gone, died along with the darkness of the night.

His first instinct was to get up and do something (something as in escape the situation, like he always did), but yet another glance at Harry made him calm down just a little. Instead of leaving the bed immediately, he leaned in and shyly touched Harry's face with his hand.

"Harry?"

The boy moved slightly under his touch before yawning slightly and pressing his head into the touch of Louis' hand. The adorable reaction made Louis' cheeks spasm along the smile he failed to suppress. He tried again, his voice barely more than a whisper: "Harry?"

Harry didn't open his eyes, but his lips curled up into a smile as he hummed sleepily: "Mm-mmh?"

"I'll go and make some coffee," Louis whispered, before hesitating a moment and then pressing his lips to Harry's forehead. It sent nervous shivers through his body, but when he pulled back and saw the ridiculous smile on Harry's face, he knew it was worth it.

"Continue sleeping, okay?"

Louis' whisper was answered with another "mmh-mmh" and a tiny nudge of his cheek, but then Harry's face relaxed slowly as the boy drifted to sleep again.

With a deep breath, Louis got up, made sure the covers were on Harry properly and left his room quietly. He made his way to the bathroom, noticing on his way that Liam seemed to be still asleep - the door to his bedroom was closed and there was no signs of breakfast or someone leaving the flat.

As Louis brushed his teeth - trying to ignore the nauseous feeling in his stomach, damn alcohol - he stared himself from the mirror. His skin was grey-ish and he had dark bags under his eyes, his hair was messy and greasy, and there was a touch of stubble on his chin - he wasn't really the sorest sight for the eyes. But as he examined his features, he felt like he wasn't staring at himself; he looked different, and it wasn't because of the exhausted look he was sporting.

He had always thought he could make it through it all. Having Eleanor had seemed to be the answer to everything. She had been pretty much everything he would've looked for in a girl, if only the circumistances had been different. He had even thought about marrying her some day; would it have been so bad to spend the rest of his life with a person who he loved, even if it wasn't the kind of love you usually married people for? Was it really that much of a problem if he wasn't _in_ love?

Or that was what he had used to think. But now, as he stared at his own reflection, he saw something about him that was different. The person who stared at him wasn't the person who had been nearly ready to marry Eleanor.

He now knew what it was like to wake up next to Harry, how it was to introduce Harry as his significant one, how to have Harry and be Harry's in public, and he knew - nothing he could have had with Eleanor could have compared to it. Not even if he had wanted to. And now he wasn't even sure if he _did_ want to anymore; he had wanted to, for sure, he had for so long.

It scared him. Or more accurately, it made him absolutely terrified. But at the same time he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, it was better to be scared than safe, if being scared meant being honest. Honest mostly for himself.

Louis finished with his teeth and shook his head to make the way too deep thoughts drift away. He decided that his headache was bad enough without the deep monologue in his mind as he walked slowly through the tiny flat to the kitchen. He was determined to make Harry some coffee that wasn't cold; not to mention he was in a desperate need of coffee himself, as the clock revealed that he had only slept for five hours.

He put the kettle on fire and sat down to wait.

While waiting, he let his thoughts wander back to the night before. He felt tingles all over his body as he memorized Harry's hands exploring him; and his lips felt like they were on fire as his memory was filled with all the kisses he couldn't have counted to save his life. He huffed to himself; he was like a 15-year-old boy with his testosterone on overdrive. He just couldn't help it; Harry was truly something else.

He was quick to make the coffee, and by the time he was finished with it, there was still no signs of Harry. Louis glanced at the two steaming cups, considering his options; the other was to wait, in which case the coffee would have probably cooled down, or to wake up Harry. And since his pride was too fragile to make bad coffee _two times_ in a row, he decided to go for the second option.

In a few minutes Louis landed to his bed, struggling to balance the mugs before putting them to the little table next to the bed. Harry was fast asleep, his chest going up and down slowly, plumb lips now slightly parted.

Damn this boy with his pretty looks.

Carefully, Louis laid down onto his side and nudged to Harry, so that their faces were nearly touching; Louis had to resist the urge to nudge their noses together. Instead, he landed his hand to Harry's cheek, caressing it gently as he whispered: "Harry?"

There was only a peaceful sigh as an answer, but then Harry smacked his lips slightly and sleepily, inhaling slowly and deeply.

"Uh... Lou? Babe?"

The words slurred out from Harry's mouth slowly, his voice more hoarse than ever. As lightheaded as it made Louis feel, he was surprised he was able to keep functioning properly.

"Hi, Harry."

Harry's other eye opened slightly as his lips turned to a sleepy smile. "Mmmh... morning, Lou."

Louis smiled fondly after Harry closed his eye again, admiring Harry's fearures. The boy was a masterpiece, really - with his thick eyelashes, plumb lips and messy curls. If Louis was being completely honest, he thought he had never seen Harry in as beautiful state as he was now; sleepy, soft and happy.

It was unfair, really - to look that beautiful after a long bar night.

"So it's morning-" Harry mumbled after a while, the sentence interrupted by a yawn, "-and you're still here. I call that progress."

Louis blushed; he was happy Harry wasn't looking at him. "Well, I never really left the last time either, did I? Besides, talking about progress-"

Harry's eye cracked open again as Louis leaned to the night stand, taking the other cup into his hands.

"-this time, the coffee is warm. That's what _I_ call real progress."

Harry let out a raspy laugh, finally opening both of his eyes and getting up to his elbows, which made Louis' eyes wander to his bulging biceps.

"Yeah, that's really something," Harry grinned, glancing at the coffee. "Must've been difficult for you, that one."

Louis huffed. "My coffee is magnificent, nearly as good a my tea. They are my specialty."

"Specialty, as in the only things you won't screw up in the kitchen," Harry laughed, taking the mug from Louis.

"Oh, what's with all these insults," Louis sighed dramatically, forcing an offended expression onto his face. "My coffee clearly isn't appreciated."

"Oh no, it surely is," Harry smiled softly, "when I open up a coffee shop you can be the one to make coffee and tea, while I handle the bakery side."

"You can bake?" Louis asked, taking the other cup for himself while examining Harry with his eyes.

"Yeah. Is it a surprise?"

"Nothing you tell me you can do amazes me anymore, Harry Styles," Louis sighed, "'cause clearly there's not one thing you can't do."

Harry sipped the coffee, frowning. "Yes there is."

"Then what's that?"

"Coffee this good," Harry said with a completely serious face, which made Louis burst out of laughter. The boy wasn't real, honestly.

"What," Harry mumbled, with a dreamt voice and suddenly soft eyes as he leaned forward, "this is great, Lou. Just strong enough."

And then he pressed a light kiss to Louis' lips, sending shivers all over Louis' body. Louis' eyes fluttered closed; he exhaled after Harry's lips pulled back and mumbled slightly shakily: "Morning breath, Harry, morning breath."

But honestly; fuck the morning breath.

Because then Louis was kissing Harry hungrily, closing his eyes and sliding his tongue on Harry's lips. Harry let out a quiet moan, and soon the coffee cups were put back to the table, as Louis circled his arms around Harry's neck and Harry pulled him close from his waist, opened his willing mouth to let Louis explore it with his tongue; and somewhere along the way Harry turned them around, finding his way on top of Louis, his arms on the both sides of Louis' head.

Louis felt dizzy, he felt drunk in Harry's mouth, drunk in Harry's weight on him, drunk in Harry's smell; it was all too much, too soon, too quickly. Louis' insides were burning with want, and judging by Harry's hardening part against his thigh, Louis wasn't the only one to feel the consuming _need_. It was like his body was more sensitive than ever, every inch of him answering to Harry's movements like they were one.

"Uh, Lou..." Harry groaned to Louis' mouth as Louis pulled his lower lip with his teeth, biting just hard enough to cause pain but not break the skin.

"Harry, I... oh god," Louis whimpered as he came to realize, "shit, Liam's home, we can't-"

Harry stilled for a moment, his lips lingering on Louis'; then he groaned, opening his eyes and swining himself from ontop of Louis to next to him.

Louis sighed, but then crawled onto Harry, resting his chin on Harry's chest. Harry's eyes played on Louis' face before he smiled softly and murmured: "Well, 's good that you noticed it early enough, you know."

"Yeah," Louis answered, grinning at Harry, "Imagine if he came in to ask whether we were awake or not and we were-"

For some reason Louis couldn't say it out loud, and the end of the sentence faded away. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable about sex or talking about it, but for some reason saying it out loud about him and _Harry_ was something he apparently felt uneasy about. _Having sex_ with Harry. Him and Harry _fucking_. The weight in his stomach that he was way too familiar with reminded him of its existence; how couldn't it? It always did; as soon as Louis forgot about it, it made sure to let Louis know it still existed.

Gladly, Harry didn't seem to notice the sudden tension in Louis, because he just laughed softly and agreed: "Yeah, poor boy."

Louis just hummed, rolling next to Harry, hiding his face with an excuse to take his coffee. The carefree rush he had felt was gone, replaced by the uncomfortable pit in his stomach.

"Louis?"

Louis swallowed, adopted his best fake smile and turned to face Harry. "Here's your coffee, I think it's kinda cool now though. Again."

But there was a frown on Harry's face that had been completely blissful just a moment before. "Lou... what is is?"

"What do you mean?" Louis mumbled, knowing he failed even before the words were out of his mouth.

Harry crawled closer, touching Louis' cheek. It just made Louis turn his eyes down; facing the cup in his hands. "Lou... hey..."

The lump in Louis' throat appeared so quickly he didn't even realize it at first. But when he did, he tried his best to ignore it. Hell, he didn't even know where it was coming from, yet he had to flutter his eyes to get help to the burning feeling behind his lids. The fact Harry was looking at him like he was a fragile bird didn't really help; Louis felt annoyed at himself.

"What's wrong baby, did I do something-"

"No," Louis mumbled, "no, you didn't, sorry..."

"You're freaking me out, Lou."

Louis let out a choked laugh. "Me, too. It's nothing, really Haz, just..."

He leaned to Harry, burying his face to the board chest. He could sense Harry's confusion, but soon there was a pair of strong arms around him, holding him tightly; even though the grip was slightly awkward because of the coffee cups they both were still holding.

"You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?" Harry whispered, drawing circles to Louis' back with his free hand. Louis closed his eyes, sighed and mumbled: "Yeah."

There was a moment of silence while Louis stayed like that as long as he dared, before he pushed a little space between them, facing Harry. If he would keep having mood swings, he might as well let Harry know that they were all about Louis, not Harry.

"It's really nothing but" Louis took a deep breath, trying to arrange his words, "there are things that you don't know... and this - me and you - is just. A lot. And new. And it's, well. Honestly, it's just not easy for me."

Harry frowned again, gently stroking Louis' cheek. "Have I, like, done something wrong? Because if I have, just tell me-"

"No, no no no," Louis said immediately, smiling at Harry. "No, it's not about you, silly, you make it hella lot easier for me to handle all this. You're quite great."

The frown melted away from Harry's face, but there was still concern behind his green eyes. "You sure?"

"Hundred per cent," Louis assured, and after a moment of hesitation he kissed Harry again, softly this time, taking it slow. And the way Harry answered to the kiss, carefully and so, so gently, made Louis think that maybe it could be alright, maybe it already was alright, because there was no way that something that felt so real and right could have been wrong.

"You still have that awful morning breath," Louis whispered after a while, making them both laugh to the kiss. Louis opened his eyes, only to find out Harry was already looking straight into them; and he pecked the corner of Harry's mouth just one more time before mumbling: "Now c'mon, you need to make some breakfast, these coffees are lost causes b'cause mine's freezing."

Harry grinned, ruffling his hair. "You're ridiculous."

"Yet you're the one in my bed, mister," Louis teased, getting up and glancing over his shoulder with a grin on his face; finding out that Harry was staring at him with that ridiculous, dimply smile om his face.

 

***

 

"Wow Harry, this is great," Liam said, taking another mouthful of the... _thing_ Harry had cooked them for breakfast. It had been all gentleman-ly; they had arrived to the kitchen where Liam was already figuring out what to eat, and Harry had insisted that he would make the three of them breakfast. Louis wasn't sure what the thing he was eating really was - something that included bacon pieces, sweet pepper and something mushed that Louis didn't recognize.

And yes, it was delicious.

"Glad you like it," Harry grinned. "I learned it from my mom."

Louis felt a weird feeling in his stomach, but decided to ignore it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, she taught me how to cook and she always made this for breakfast in school mornings," Harry said, smiling at the memory. "Gemma loved it too when she was younger, but nowadays she complains that it's too greasy or something."

"Gemma? Is she your sister or something?" Liam asked, glancing at Harry with a curious expression in his eyes.

"Yeah, my older sister," Harry mumbled - his mouth was currently quite full.

Louis glanced at his plate, picking up the last piece of the food with his fork. The thought of knowing Gemma, or Harry's family in general, was something that had crossed his mind before; but now that it seemed more probable than it had before, when he wasn't as _involved_ with Harry, it made him feel slightly odd. Harry had a loving family who seemed to adore Harry as much as Harry adored them, and part of Louis wanted to meet them at some point.

Another part of him though, much bigger one, was too nervous to even think of meeting them.

"Too greasy? This is probably the healthiest hangoverbreakfast I've ever eaten," Louis mumbled, flashing a smile before getting up and taking the dishes to the sink. Soon after him, there was a screetch from another chair, before he felt how a chin rested itself onto his shoulder, one arm carefully circling itself around Louis' hip.

"You liked it?" Harry whispered; way too intimately to talk about food. "'Cause if you did, you'll be eating it a lot in the future."

Louis sighed; he still felt slightly uneasy about being so close to Harry when someone else was around, but he forced himself to lean to Harry's body, nudging his head against Harry's. "Yeah. I did."

"You sure?" Harry murmured, placing a kiss onto Louis' shoulder.

"Of course I am," Louis huffed. "You couldn't cook something bad to save your life."

"Thanks."

Louis was sure he could hear Harry's grin in the word.

"But," Harry continued after a while (Louis wondered if Liam was looking), "why are you so tense then?"

The answer came too quickly: "'M not."

Before Harry was able to disagree, Louis continued: "Just headache, you know. Something people usually experience after a long night."

"I don't," Harry grinned, "I don't do hangovers."

"'Course," Louis mumbled, "you're Mr Perfect, hangovers aren't for people like you. But for people like me..."

"You think I'm perfect?" Harry teased.

"No, I think you're horrible."

That was when Liam cut in, shoving his plate to the counter. "Romantic. But save your banters to the moments when your flatmate isn't around, yeah?"

Louis blushed; for a second he had forgot that Liam was there, too. He decided to blame Harry, because it was just fair.

Harry was, after all, horrible.

But that horrible person next to Louis seemed like he had gotten an electric shock. "Flatmate... shit. I forgot to... I think my phone's on silent... Max doesn't know I came here, I said I'd be home... I have to call him, where's my phone..."

And with that, Harry was stumbling to Louis' room. Louis watched as he staggered with his ridiculously long limbs; his legs were barely covered with his briefs and the short sleeves of Louis' t-shirt, that Harry had borrowed, were even shorter than usually on Harry's figure that was way taller than Louis'. It wasn't really Louis' fault that his eyes found quickly Harry's cute little bum that was nowhere nearly covered with the t-shirt.

Harry really had a nice arse.

Liam cleared his throat; Louis nearly jumped, as if he was caught doing something forbitten. "It's your turn to do the dishes."

"What," Louis protested, "no, it's definitely not-"

"It definitely _is_ , I did them yesterday and the day before. Shut up and do them, Lou."

Louis was just about to argue - okay, it was his turn but he _hated_ doing dishes even more than he hated wearing socks in Vans shoes - when Harry came out of his room again, now fully dressed. The stare Louis gave him was clearly awed because as soon as Harry spotted him he asked: "What?"

"You were there for like what, a minute?"

Harry was clearly humoured. "Aand?"

"There's no way those skinny jeans take less than a minute to pull on."

Harry bursted into laughter; the kind of loud laughter that echoed from the walls and made Louis' heart melt. No one would have laughed at a joke that bad, yet Harry did, with a force of a hundred decibels.

"Well, I'm just that magical," Harry grinned as he hustled to Louis and pecked a kiss onto Louis' cheek, "but I still gotta go, I'm not magical enough to be in two places at the same time."

"Did I mention that you're horrible?" Louis mumbled, but the expression on his face was still soft from the burning spot on his cheek; the spot Harry's lips had been just a moment ago.

"Yeah. You too," Harry answered, a dimple popping onto his cheek. "See you, Lou."

"See you," Louis murmured, following Harry's movements with his gaze.

"Bye Liam, sorry I couldn't help with the dishes!" Harry called from the door, already pulling on his winter boots (Louis could've sworn there were three inch heels in them. Or at least two.).

"No problem mate, you cooked, ergo we handle the dishes. Bye!"

And just like that, the curly hurricane was out of the flat.

And _just like that_ , Louis felt like he let out a breath he had been holding for the whole morning. He decided that the dishes could wait as he collapsed to the chair next to their dinner table.

Inhale, exhale. Harry had performed a song about Louis last night.

Inhale, exhale. He had been drunk grinding on Harry last night.

Inhale, exhale. He had spent a night with Harry, _again_ , last night.

Inhale, exhale. Harry had apparently become his boyfriend last night, because shit, they were apparently _dating_.

Louis hadn't realized he was staring blankly at the dishes before Liam sat down next to him.

"Either you're trying to clean those dishes with the power of mind, or you're really thinking something."

Louis huffed. "Trying to clean the dishes, obviously."

From the corner of his eye, Louis saw a smile curving onto Liam's lips. "Of course. No but really, Louis, everything okay?"

Louis sighed, then: "Why wouldn't it be?"

"'Cause you've got that look on your face, Lou. I know that look."

Damn best friends.

"Uh, it's nothing."

"Whatever you say," Liam shrugged, clearly not convinced.

They sat there for a while, pining in their hangovers. Louis thought dimly about getting himself a painkiller, only to remember that they were out of them. How unfortunate.

"So, uh," Liam begun after a while. "You and Harry?"

Louis tensed immediately. "What about us?"

"Nothing," Liam rushed, "just that he really seems to be a nice guy. I like him, he's won me over and we've only hung out for like, twice."

"Oh," Louis answered. He hadn't expected that. For a moment he thought about it, letting the silence settle back in, before he braced himself.

"So you don't- I mean, do you, uh, think 's weird?"

He examined Liam's expression carefully; he could barely contain his nerves during the few seconds that it took for Liam to react. But then Liam frowned slightly, gazing at Louis. "Weird? No, why? Should I think so? No, I just, I dunno, didn't see that coming. Surprising maybe, but weird? No."

Louis swallowed. "So you're like, okay with it?"

Now there was a clear frown between Liam's eyebrows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, uh..." Louis mumbled, now playing with his thumbs nervously. He wasn't really keen to saying it out loud, but Liam caught up quickly as always.

"Oh," he said with a realization on his eyes, "you think that I'd think it's weird because he's a guy?"

Louis was now fully occupied with staring at his fingers that he was playing with. "I just... that crossed my mind..."

"Louis," Liam said firmly yet gently, "you clearly like the guy, and he absolutely _adores_ you, and that's it. If you like him, you like him."

A tiny wave of relief passed Louis' mind briefly. At least his friends were good with the idea of him being with Harry.

"Oh, okay... thanks."

"Don't thank me," Liam said softly. “There’s no reason to.”

Louis just hummed. That was easy for Liam to say; not everyone took the news as well as he did. The thought made Louis squirm a little.

“Louis…?”

“Yeah?”

“Is this about…” A long pause. “Is this about your family?”

It felt like everything around Louis froze. Not only surroundings, but also Louis himself.

For a second he felt nothing but a burning coldness; but then the ice broke and everything came in like a tidal wave. The voices in his head were like a frosty wind in his head, screaming from the bottom of his memories.

But somehow Louis was able to pull it together in seconds, remaining completely neutral from the outside. He hadn’t even flinched; in fact, he was completely still until he let out a sharp exhale.

”What do you know about that?”

It was a cold question that came out chokedly yet bluntly, without any kind of emotions in them. Liam wasn’t supposed to know a thing. Louis had never, ever, not even at his drunkest place, mentioned anything about it; he was pretty sure the only one who knew _anything_ at all was Zayn, and that was only because Louis had practically lived with the guy during the worst phase. And to be completely honest, Louis was pretty sure not even Zayn knew exactly what had been going on back then – so how on Earth could Liam suggest that?

”I… honestly, I don’t… I just once, ages ago, asked Zayn about your parents because you barely talk about them, and he just said it was complicated. And well, now,” Liam’s voice got more quiet with every word, “I just, you've been acting all weird and... I don’t know, it was just a guess.”

Just a guess.

”Yes, well,” Louis said, managing to keep his voice steady and blank, “Zayn’s right. It’s complicated.”

”Louis…” Liam pleaded quietly, clearly not knowing what to say.

Louis didn’t know what to say, either.

”What… what happened?” Liam finally asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Louis didn’t really want to think about it, not to mention talk about it, so he just blurted out: “I liked a guy. They didn’t like it. That’s it.”

Liam was smart enough to not pressure him more than that.

Louis didn’t know how he was supposed to act. Go on like nothing happened? Wash the dishes? Make sure Liam wouldn’t bring it up ever again? Cry?

Gladly, Liam made the decision for him. 

”I’m gonna shut up after this, but… so, if you wanna like, talk about it, you can talk to me, ‘kay? And… I don’t know what happened, like really, but it’s… completely okay for you to like Harry? Like, I don’t know how I’m supposed to say this, but there’s nothing wrong with that, no matter what anyone says-“

”Liam.”

Liam stopped in the middle of the sentence, with his mouth still gaping open; but then he closed it, mumbling: “Right. Sorry, but I want you to know that. It’s okay.”

”Thanks, man,” Louis answered, forcing a smile. “I’m okay, really, I’m just gonna wash the dishes now.”

He ignored Liam’s worried face, repeating the mantra “I’m okay, it’s good, I’m okay” in his head. But as soon as he was at the sink, facing the wall, with his hands wet and slippery from the soap, the let the mantra go.

Because he wasn’t okay, really. It was just that no one had to know.

 

***

 

Louis had thought that the worst part of the day was over; turned out, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

When Liam was at the football practice (that Louis had decided to skip, with the excuse of being sick – half true, his hangovers _were_ the worst) and Louis was alone, comfily buried into the couch with the TV on, his phone ringed. Louis sighed and muted the TV; he really wasn't in a mood to talk to anyone, but despite that he sat up.

The freezing feeling was back in the very moment he picked up his phone.

All Louis could think of was _this isn't happening._ It wasn’t possible, not today, not now, not after all the thoughts he had finally managed to drown into bad TV shows.

But it was happening, and Louis answered it, his quiet voice feeling like a shout in the quiet flat.

”Hi, mum.”

”Louis, darling, hi. Hope it isn’t a bad time?” the soft, familiar voice greeted him.

”Of course not, it’s, uh… not.”

The last time Louis had talked to his mom had been about month ago; and it had only been because one of his sisters had had a birthday, but Fizzy hadn’t answered her phone, so Louis had called her mom to reach her. And that had been it; a few awkward “how’s it going” and “good, and you”’s were changed. And that's it.

”Well, good then. How’s life?”

”Life’s… good. Yeah.

”Good, nothing special?"

Louis frowned, trying to ignore the fact his hands were slightly shaking. "Nothing special, really."

"Are't you forgetting something?”

In that moment, Louis panicked. “What do you mean?”

”You and Eleanor. Louis, you forget that Facebook his available in Doncaster, too. And I’m pretty sure there was a break up update, so."

Louis felt like someone had hit his head with a hammer. This was it, then? An interrogation about their break up? _Of course_ , Louis thought, biting his lip angrily; of course. _Did you really think she would just_ check up _on you?_

”Yeah, well. We did. Break up.”

A long, disappointed sigh. ”What did you do?”

And there it was. _What did you do_. Not “what happened” or “are you okay”, but a straight assumption that Louis had been the reason; that Louis had done something wrong.

And the pit in his stomach reminded him that it was the truth. Louis had done something wrong; the whole break up had been his fault..

”Mum…"

"Really, Louis. I'm just curious." But the tone of her voice said she was ready to judge whatever it was that he had done.

"I did nothing, it was a mutual decision." Sort of. "I've met someone new though."

A truth. A truth that, Louis came to realize, he should have never said out loud. His mum seemed to disagree though, according to the excitement in her voice.

"You have? Oh, really? What is she like?"

"Um." _Correct her, Louis._ "Well..." _It's a he._ "Nice. Funny, goodlooking." _And he's a guy._ "Green eyes. Just generally great, really."

And that was it.

"That's so great, Louis! What's her name?"

Louis realized dimly that it was his last chance to set things straight - gay - but it seemed like he wasn't able to control his words. "It's nothing serious yet, so."

"Oh, a mysterious lady! Well, let me know when you're ready to tell me more about her."

A few more friendly words, and the call was over.

Louis sat there, with the phone in his hand, for a time that could've been five minutes or an hour, processing the conversation. He had never corrected his mother. He should have simply just corrected that they weren't talking about a she but a he. But then he realized that he could have never done such thing; he could have never admitted to his mum that he had actually become what she had suspected, what she and his father had always been afraid he'd become. Because the words were still echoing in his head; _I thought you were better than this? I thought I taught you differently?_

Clearly they hadn't; or maybe Louis was just too fucked up to be taught.

At some point, his phone beeped to let him know there was a message. Louis stared at the name with an empty feeling in his stomach, his mother's words echoing in his mind.

_**Harry:** It was soooo fun last night, again sometime? :) xx_

Louis never answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah well, there goes 5.9k chapter (shit how did it get so long), i hope you like it. i dont like it, really, bc i feel like my writing is shittier than ever, so yeah, sorry about that. its just been a while, u know?
> 
> as always, kudos and comments on the chapter and the fic would be appreciated, both positive and negative comments! cos really, if you dont like it, id like to know why, so i can improve as a writer and blah blah blah. and same goes if you happen to like it!
> 
> you can find me on **rockzourry.tumblr.com** in case theres something u want to know etc??


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